White Winter (The Black Year Series Book 2) (14 page)

The instructor’s eyes darted over Jonas’ shoulder. Apparently, the process created a heat haze behind him.

“Again,” Damien said.

♘

Leticia Macready opened the door and she smiled. “Jonas! What a pleasant surprise. Kieran’s not with you?”

“He’s working in the lab today. May I come in?”

“Of course! The children will be glad to see you.”

♘

“So you already knew about them?”

“Yes, Ms. Gallagher, but there’s not much we can do. If we crack down on a group like this, the others illegals just go to ground. Better to keep tabs on them from a distance.”

Eve ignored the resentful looks of the squatters as the Agency troops cleared and searched the warehouse. Black-clad humans and werewolves emptied crates and dug through piles of personal belongings. Vampires interrogated community leaders, forcing their way through mental barriers in some cases.

The director of the Chicago branch shook his head. “We’re not going to find anything. We didn’t last time, either.”

“When was that?”

“When Mr. Black died.”

Eve frowned. “What did these people have to do with Victor’s disappearance?”

The director raised an eyebrow. “You think he’s still alive?”

“I think you’d have to be an idiot to lose the only leverage anyone could hope to get over Alice.”

He nodded. “You might be right. I hope you are.” He shrugged. “There was an attack on… on some of Mrs. Black’s associates a year and a half ago. Mr. Black tracked the attackers down; that’s how we found out about this group in the first place. A month later, he was gone. Director Fangston told us it wasn’t related, but we shook them down anyway.”

“Did Alice ask you to?”

He shook his head. “I did it for Mr. Black. He was a good man.”

“
Is
a good man.”

He grunted and crossed his arms, turning back toward the warehouse floor. She felt her skin heat. She wasn’t sure why she was so adamant about Victor being alive.
Probably from merging with Jonas so often. I’ll have to be careful about that.

An Agency vampire who looked like he was in his mid-twenties approached them. “Sir?”

“What is it, Micah?”

“Got something from one of the kids. A group of ten adults passed through here just over a week ago - eight wolves and two vampires. They were already armed; they took food and blood, then moved on. The kid overheard they were heading for New York.”

“Thank you, Micah.”

“Yes, sir.” The vampire headed back toward the others.

“Just over a week ago?” Eve said.

“That’s right.”

“The Peacekeeper program fell apart just over a week ago.”

He nodded. “Yes, Ms. Gallagher. It certainly did.”

♘

“What the heck is going on out there?” Jonas said, leaving Eve’s memory.

“I don’t know,” Eve said, stroking his side. “I’m worried Damien’s working you too hard.”

“I’m worried it won’t be enough.”

♘

The Sorcerer found his advisors huddled in the shadows of the temple’s exit, a long, square-cut tunnel that led to the thousand, bloodstained steps of the pyramid. The six of them stood as close to the sunlight as they dared, emotionless eyes watching the shattered sky. They turned to him expectantly as he arrived, their posture respectful, their eyes calculating.

“He’s dead,” the Sorcerer said.

They nodded, turning back to observe the darkening sky in unison. They’d been his sole companions for the past 800 years as he struggled to find a way to ward off the creator’s scythe. Their hands were as bloodstained as his. He suspected their mental powers had grown to the point where they were linked, six minds constantly communicating, plotting, and running his empire, even though he’d designed them to be solitary and suspicious. Given time, they might have overcome him. Given time, he might have culled them and shaped more docile overseers.

“The slaves flee,” one said.

He nodded. “I tired of them. Free the wolves at sunset. You may hunt as well, if it pleases you.”

They remained silent.

“It’s the end, then,” he said, face burning from having to seek some kind of comfort in their company.

“For all
living
creatures, my lord,” the nearest said, his voice a whisper.

The Sorcerer’s breath caught in his throat. His advisors didn’t breathe, had no blood of their own. The leash he’d fashioned for them would be their salvation.
The disease,
he thought, suppressing a shudder of revulsion at taking their infirmity into himself, but if it meant survival…

“Not for you, my lord,” his oldest adviser, Alam-Baal, said.

“We live in darkness.”

“In shadow.”

“We thirst…”

They hate me,
he realized.
They would deny me.
Six pairs of eyes fixed him in place like a rat. His hand went to his belt, to the wards that protected him from the encroachment of their disease ridden minds.
Do they still hold?

Alam-Baal bowed. “You need no protection from us, master. We are grateful. We wish to help.”

One by one, the creatures smiled.

♘

Jonas blinked. He was sitting on worn, bloodstained mats in a bare-concrete-walled basement. The echo of Phillip’s deep voice lingered in the air. The last time he’d seen this place, he’d been delving through Kieran’s mind; it was where the Macreadys trained their children, from exercise and play to brutal fights between kin and, apparently, stories about the werewolves’ distant past.

“What happened then, father?” Bert asked, sitting cross-legged among his brothers and sisters. He was a gangly boy, only thirteen but already tall, his face earnest and showing no signs of the betrayal to come. Phillip, Bert’s father, stood at the foot of the stairs, leaning against the post at the end of the handrail.

“You’re dead,” Jonas said. “You’re both dead.”

“And you shouldn’t be here, vampire,” Phillip answered, as the children turned to stare at Jonas with gleaming blue or yellow eyes. “This is a story for wolves.”

“This is my mind,” Jonas said, standing up. “I can go where I like.”

Phillip shoved him. To Jonas’ surprise, he woke in his bed, heart racing.

♘

“Jonas, are you okay?”

“What?”

“You spaced out,” Amelia said.

Jonas rubbed his chest with the palm of his hand. “Sorry. I’ve been having bad dreams.”

“Your eyes were open.”

He dropped his hand in his lap. “I didn’t mean just now. It was a couple days ago; it was just… really vivid.”

“Is it because of Temperance?” Kieran asked.

He thought about it, then shook his head. “No, we did the best we could. We saved people.”

“Jonas, Temperance was where that mining accident happened,” Amelia said. “Why were you and Kieran there?” She was turning the ring on her middle finger with her thumb. She did that when she was really upset.

Without thinking, he nudged Kieran’s mind into taking her hand. Kieran’s eyes widened, and he started to pull back but Amelia put her other hand on his and smiled. Jonas could sense Eve’s touch, feather light compared to his clumsy effort, soothing Amelia’s fears.

Should we be doing this?
he asked.

We’re just helping things along
.

CHAPTER 17

Jonas ripped his gloves off, pulled off his scarf, and tossed his coat onto a bush as he ran. He was breathing hard, breath fogging before him as he tried to avoid the deeper pockets of snow. Wood snapped; a tree 30 feet to the right swayed as something big landed in its branches.

He stepped up on a rock, jumped, and shifted left ten yards, catching himself on a tree trunk before running west, away from the pack. They couldn’t smell him, couldn’t follow his tracks if they just stopped; maybe he’d bought himself some time.

He ducked as a massive paw parted the air in front of him, then shifted backward as the second werewolf dropped from above, slamming into the space he’d occupied seconds before. He was starting to get used to how werewolves fought. The pack grunted and barked in the surrounding woods, orienting on him. Kieran shot past him, bowling the smaller of the two wolves over and riding the second to the ground. He held the struggling werewolf’s arms and roared, “Run!” as the first wolf recovered and ran to its pack mate’s aid.

Jonas didn’t hesitate. If he could make it to the stream, he’d be safe. Time seemed to slow as he noticed the third werewolf, still in human form, fly at him with arms extended.

Slowing time wasn’t magic, or at least it wasn’t the kind he did with Madoc. Damien told him it was halfway between the mindscape, where an hour lasted minutes, and the real world. It burned a ridiculous amount of blood.
Shift, burn, or fight?
he thought, then he recognized his attacker and gave up.
It’s better this way.
He opened his arms
.

Caleb slammed into him, staggering him a few steps as he hugged the child to his chest.

“I got you! I got you, clan leader!”

“Yes, you did, Caleb! Well done!”

The boy squealed with delight as Jonas spun him around and set him on the ground. Jonas straightened, resisting the urge to put his hands on his knees and pant. He was overheated, thirsty, and his legs ached from the chase.

“Oh, well done, Caleb!”

“Yes, well done!” said Ryan, or Sean, running up with Jonas’ extra layers in hand.

“Shouldn’t let him win like that, clan leader,” Nell said, dropping from a branch in wolf form, eyes molten gold. She wasn’t that different from other werewolves - she stood on her hind legs, balanced on the pads of her feet, metacarpals so elongated it looked like she had an extra joint. Her fur was brown, like Phillip’s had been. But the tip of her tail tended to rise higher than the other Macreadys’, and she radiated menace. And she was big, bigger than Kieran and even Leticia by at least 20 pounds. “You’ll make him weak,” she said, glaring at Caleb.

“He didn’t let me win, Nell,” Caleb said, his face serious.

Nell growled in her throat, and Kieran snarled at her. She stood her ground, but turned her attention to the rest of the pack as they jogged in.

Jonas put his gloves on and looped the scarf around his neck, then folded the jacket over his arm. He was getting used to their dynamics, so he stayed out of it. The growls, barks, shoves, and constant fighting were part of how they communicated and, in a way, how they expressed their love for each other; it told them they belonged.

“I need three packs of blood and a breather. Head back to the house?”

“Race you there!” Caleb said. Nell scooped him up and took off, tiny arms hugging her neck, and the others gave chase.

Kieran looked at Jonas, lips pulled back and tongue lolled to the side, reminding him of a white Siberian husky standing on its hind legs. A really buff one. “Go on, I’ll catch up,” Jonas said.

His friend’s eyes gleamed blue and he tore after the others, kicking snow everywhere.

Jonas sighed and shook his head, but he couldn’t help but smile. It had only been ten days since Temperance, and he knew the Agency was still dealing with the fallout, but things were getting back to normal for him. He jogged after them.

♘

“Stop. Put it back in the holster. Bring the sights to your eye, not your eye to the sights.”

Jonas exhaled, trying not to show his frustration. He relaxed his shoulders, thumbed the safety on, and slid the pistol back into the holster on his hip without taking his eyes off the target. It clicked into place. He was getting better at… whatever this was.
Threatening a piece of paper with a loaded gun.

“You gonna let him shoot?” Frank said.

Damien turned and lifted an eyebrow.

“You’ve been dry firing for two hours. Haven’t heard a shot.”

“I don’t want him to learn bad habits.”

“Haven’t seen you shoot, either,” Frank said, leaning against the partition with his arms crossed. “Heard you were pretty good, once.”

Damien’s eyes wrinkled. “Is that a 1911?” he said, pointing at Frank’s thigh.

“Sure is.”

“May I? I’m not used to the newer models.”

The corner of Frank’s mouth twitched. He drew the pistol, locked the slide back, then handed the gun and a loaded magazine to Damien. Damien checked the chamber, inserted the magazine, and sent the slide home, fitting his palm to the grip the same way he’d shown Jonas. Jonas put himself in between so he wouldn’t miss anything, feeling his skin flush.

Damien stepped into the booth, feet parallel, raised the gun to his eye and fired.
Bang bang bang bang bang bang.
He shifted backward, pulled another magazine from Frank’s belt as he ejected the first, casings tinkling on the ground, then he shifted forward into the next booth, and Jonas heard the magazine click in place and the slide
clack
home.
Bang bang bang bang bang bang bang bang. Tinkle.
Jonas relaxed, and time went back to normal.
The four targets nearest Jonas’ lane had multiple holes in their chests.