He Came from Ice

by Kody Boye

  The night before the ceremony—during which time Guy had departed to alternate corridors to abstain from physical contact—I wandered into the downstairs kitchen and found Amadeo drinking what appeared to be a glass of wine, his eyes lost in the thunderstorm taking place outside.

  I cleared my throat, wincing at a bark of thunder, and tapped my fist on the doorjamb. “Sir?” I said.

  He turned his head to look at me. “Jason,” he said.

  “Can I come in?”

  He gestured at me with a wave of the hand. “Would you like something to drink?”

  “You don’t know the half of it,” I said.

  He pulled the stopped bottle from the opposite counter and lifted, awaiting my approval before pouring me a glass. “How have you been?” he asked as he slid the glass toward me.

  “Better,” I said. Amadeo watched me lift the glass to my lips and drink—probably more than I should have at once, considering my low tolerance, but I didn’t care. I slicked the back of my hand over my lips and forced a smile. “Sorry.”

  “No need,” he said. His chest rose and fell, as if struck with the loss of air. The glass of wine returned to his lips shortly after. “You appear troubled.”

  “Not very often you’re put in a situation like this.”

  “But you agreed.”

  “Yes,” I said. “I have.”

  There wasn’t anything to say. Freedom of choice expressed many possibilities—to do good things, to do bad things, to do things that walked along the neutral boundary. For most people, my decision would’ve been seen as a complete denial of self. I saw it as a liberation.

  “Amadeo,” I said.

  “Yes?” he asked.

  “Did you feel this way when you were made into a Kaldr?”

  The man’s lips pursed, lifting the fan-shaped spread of facial hair along his chin. Contempt wasn’t an emotion I often saw on the Spanish man’s face. Rather, his confidence came in his subtlety. The way his lips were held, the way his jaw was set, the way his eyes always remained direct and unfaltering—he always seemed somewhat confident, even in the darkest of moments. Now, though, he appeared just as I imagined I did: lost, confused, and completely alone in the world.

  Since I didn’t expect him to respond, I lifted my wine to my lips and let my eyes stray to the window, in an attempt to see just what it was he’d been looking at before I’d entered the room.

  I saw it clearly—almost plain as day: the moon, not yet full, but nearing its total completion.

  “Of course I was scared,” Amadeo finally said.

  My eyes returned to the man’s face. Upon it rested relief, spelled clearly in his softened eyes and his lightened expression.

  “I wasn’t nearly as fortunate as Guy’s father when it comes to past history,” he said, refilling his glass of wine and leaning forward to face me head-on. “Whereas Elliot fled to eventually find the Americas due to invasion, I arrived due to conquest.”

  He took a grand sip from his glass, as if to placate himself of any guilt that might’ve come from opening the closet and bringing out the old skeletons. “I won’t go into details,” he said. “All I’ll say is that, during the height of the Aztec empire, I arrived with a number of other Spaniards and set into motion the events that history now knows as the Spanish conquest.”

  “You were with—”

  “Cortez himself,” Amadeo nodded. He finished the wine and then started for another, but stopped when he couldn’t keep his hand from shaking. “Long story short: I participated in one of the most horrible events in human history, was so wracked with guilt that I could barely stand it, and fled through Central America until I eventually found the Norwegian Kaldr settled along the east coast.”

  “But pilgrims didn’t arrive until—”

  “One-hundred years later. Yes. I understand.”

  “But if there’d been Europeans in the New World before the Pilgrims, wouldn’t it have been—” I paused when it hit me. Amadeo’s somber smile only further solidified my notion. “It wouldn’t’ve even mattered,” I said.

  “Because the Kaldr would not have wanted anyone to find them,” he said. He stopped the bottle and set it to the side. “I don’t feel it necessary to discuss my transformation, if that is all right. It’s personal to everyone.”

  “I know. Don’t worry.”

  “But yes—I was afraid. Deathly so, in fact. But my condition wouldn’t have allowed me any other choice. I fell ill, was on the verge of death, and was saved by Elliot Winters on the night of the great moon. That is that.”

  I nodded. Setting my feet on the floor, I pushed myself off the stool and backed away from the counter. “Thank you for your time,” I said.

  “You need not be worried, Jason. Guy is a good man. I’m sure you already know that.”

  “Yes sir. I do.”

  “Don’t hesitate to ask if you need anything. I want this to be as comfortable as possible.”

  “Thank you.”

  Amadeo bowed his head and spun to return the wine to its shelf.

  While I made my way out of the kitchen and back toward the stairs, thoughts of Amadeo’s past continued to haunt me.

  I’d been given a choice.

  Though love—or, at least, what I assumed was love—had bound Elliot and Amadeo, it had been the fear of death that had forced upon them that necessary choice.

  I closed my eyes.

  The stairs creaked beneath my weight.

  Outside, the light rain pattered on.

  I sighed.

  Nothing was holding me here.

  I had a choice.

  When I stopped to consider how many people hadn’t, it only solidified that I was staying for the right reasons.

  I couldn’t be afraid now.

  This was my future.

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  I lay awake that night. Cold, alone, and uneasy, I listened to the rain as over the course of several hours it transformed from a light shower to a roaring thunderstorm. It was enormous; and though its intensity was almost enough to drown the thoughts from my head, it was not enough to keep me from thinking about everything that would occur tomorrow night.

  Where? I kept on wondering. When?

  Grief drove me from bed and to the far side of the flat. Past the kitchen, and down a hall to the left, lay an office in which the majority of Guy’s more material belongings were held. Flushed against one wall was a desk, atop which was a rectangular lamp that cast a vibrant array of light across the room. I flicked this on with a simple click of a switch and settled into a chair I’d not sat in before with a sigh—hands instantly reaching for my hair, elbows automatically planting themselves on the wooden desktop. The fact that I was in here was somewhat outrageous, considering I’d kept away from his personal affairs even after his proclamations that he had nothing to hide, but at that moment, I could care less.

  My real reasons for being here were selfish.

  I wanted to be close to him.

  Here, in this place, in this office, where all his books, old study materials, and even a typewriter were kept, lay an essence I could not deny.

  Guy was just as alive here as he was in the flesh, standing right next to me with his hand around my shoulder.

  It was funny. I’d always told myself I wouldn’t let myself get wrapped up in a guy while I had my own dreams going on. Now here I was sitting in Guy’s office, in the middle of hill country, living a life I’d never intended.

  And now I was planning to dedicate myself to him forever.

  “‘Til death do us part,” I mumbled.

  Was that why the priests said it at the weddings? To imply the severity of the bond?

  I leaned back and cast my eyes to the ceiling, the office chair adjusting with my posture at a diagonal. I kept trying to convince myself of any worth I had in my new and strange existence, yet couldn’t find anything to grasp onto.

  In the real world, had I not been expelled, I would’ve been an English major—a
teacher, maybe middle or high school, teaching students the importance of literature and the necessary skills of writing. I’d get a paycheck, live in my own apartment or, God willing, a house. I’d eventually find a boyfriend and we’d move in together, maybe move elsewhere. I’d live, eat, breathe and die a normal man. Here, though… everything was up for question.

  Kaldr, werewolves, vampires—nothing made sense anymore.

  But was it supposed to?

  I lay my head atop the desk and stared at the Newton’s Cradle that swung before me.

  Transfixed by its rhythm, I eventually lost sight of the outside world.

  It wasn’t long before I passed out.

  Chapter Fifty

  I awoke the next morning to the sound of clicking.

  Tick tick tick.

  Tick tick tick.

  I opened my eyes to find I had awoken in a completely different place. Confused, disoriented, and wondering why I was anywhere else but Guy’s room, I lifted my head to discover that I had fallen asleep at Guy’s desk and that it had been the Cradle that pulled me from sleep.

  Though I was quick to question why I was here, it didn’t take me long to find out.

  Last night—here, alone, without Guy—

  The rain—

  The weight of the situation came barreling down, dropping on top of me before bouncing back up like a comical piano in a children’s cartoon.

  The ceremony—

  It was tonight.

  My expected reaction had been to freak out and immediately be filled with anxiety. Instead, I was surprisingly calm—a fact absolutely-mystifying considering my usual behavior.

  I was good though.

  I wasn’t freaking out.

  I pushed myself out of the desk and wandered from the office with a sense of relief I wish I’d had the previous night. Though nearly blinded by the sun that streamed in through the living room windows, I stalked into the kitchen and pulled out a jug of orange juice, relishing the tang that slid down my throat as my body slowly began to wake up.

  The day was to be relished.

  The night would bring change.

  I hadn’t been given any specifics as to when the ceremony would occur. I’d only been told that I would be escorted to the chamber in the early hours of the evening and to prepare myself. Beyond that, I was as ignorant as could be.

  Dressing, though—that hadn’t been addressed.

  The only clothes I’d brought with me were what Guy had bought in Fredericksburg. While I didn’t slight their quality, I highly doubted they’d be appropriate.

  It was astounding how fast I had gone from being perpetually-terrified to only slightly-nervous.

  While the hour had yet to come, I had more than enough time to reminisce on just how it might go.

  Chapter Fifty-One

  An hour before dusk, I readied myself for the ceremony as best I could. Shaving my face, cleansing myself of worries with water and several shots of vodka from the bottle I’d found in Guy’s cabinet—I looked at myself in the mirror and examined every facet of myself. From my clean-shaven face, to the simple, button-down shirt, to a pair of jeans lifted from Guy’s teenage days, I looked completely the part.

  Human.

  It seemed odd to be presenting myself in front of the clan without actually initiating myself into their midst. Yet here I was—dressed casually and without regret, preparing to submit to a life of obedience, and I had absolutely no qualms.

  I’d made up my mind.

  This was my future—here, on this ranch, with Guy, amidst the Kaldr, and away from the rest of humanity.

  I lowered my head and took a deep breath.

  While not one for faith, I took a moment to send my thoughts to any willing god that would listen and prayed that everything would be all right.

  A knock came at the door.

  I lifted my head from the bedroom mirror and cast my eyes across the flat.

  It was time.

  I swigged the last swallow of my water and strode across the flat with confidence, pausing only to slide my shoes onto my feet and brace myself for the evening before I opened the door. Amadeo stood in the threshold, dressed finely in robes much like the one I’d seen in Guy’s bedroom.

  “Amadeo,” I said, shocked.

  “I will be your envoy,” he said. “Are you ready?”

  “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

  I secured the door behind me and followed Amadeo through the house.

  He led me into the living room and then through an interweaving series of halls I’d only recalled being in after being attacked by Missy Sue. Branched off at the far side of the house, directly beneath where Elliot and Amadeo’s quarters were situated, I was directed down a long, blank hall painted mutely in shades of hospital white and turned beyond a pair of metal doors locked into place with iron bars.

  From there, we descended into a basement.

  Darkness quickly overwhelmed us.

  “Keep hold of the railing,” Amadeo said, “and you’ll be fine.”

  I didn’t question the motive behind the secrecy. I merely took hold of the metal and wrapped my fingers around it to secure my grip.

  After a short while, there came a pause in Amadeo’s footsteps where, I assumed, our entrance had to be. The electronic click of what sounded like a keypad echoed through the tight space before a door unsnapped and was then pushed open.

  Inside was a room made to resemble a spherical chamber.

  At the far end, a fixture hung from the ceiling, from which dangled a series of curtains.

  “This is it,” Amadeo said. “We’re here.”

  I stepped into the room and allowed my eyes to adjust to the pale lighting emanating from sconces on the walls. Cast in blue, the room appeared ancient—only bolstered by the skypane that formed a perfect circle over the curtain fixture.

  The door closed behind me.

  A bar slid into place.

  The unexpected chill of many Kaldr whispered about my body.

  It only took a moment to realize what was behind the curtain.

  Stepping forward, I bridged the distance between me and a threshold defined only by a circle inlaid within the stone floor and watched the curtains fall open.

  He lay on a circular stone bed, upon which a slight mattress and only a few amenities lay. His torso laid plain, his hips shrouded by a sheet, Guy watched as I stepped forward with eyes that glowed like distant stars in a place I could never hope to see.

  “Jason,” he said.

  In such a small space, his voice echoed off the walls and rebounded through my head, startling my conscience and jarring my person from the ethereal sight before me. I took notice of several other eyes standing all around—watching, waiting, beneath hoods that should have hidden their gazes but didn’t because of the glow illuminating them.

  My eyes instinctively fell to Guy.

  He lifted his arm and extended his hand. “Come,” he said.

  There was no gravity in the situation. I merely obeyed.

  The bed was cold beneath my hands as I guided myself onto the mattress and hovered over Guy’s prone body, staring into his eyes and reveling in the energy pooling from him. Here, the chill had become immense—to the point where had I not been clothed I imagined every hair on me would’ve stood on end—but it was so dwarfed by my longing for him that I felt nothing. I pressed my palm to his cheek, cupped my fingers along his neck, then leaned forward.

  So close, I could feel the winter upon his breath.

  “Jason,” he whispered.

  I kissed him.

  The response was immediate.

  My body lit on fire.

  Some humans, he’d said, have powers they’re not even aware of.

  Was this what this was? A power? An energy? A gift from some unknown evolutionary cycle?

  I didn’t know; and at that moment, I didn’t care. I took hold of Guy’s face and guided him upright as I probed his mouth with my tongue and lavished in every aspect
of his person. His hands set at my ribcage, his chest pressed and leveled with mine, I told myself that everything was fine, that everything was okay—and that most of all: I was his.

  His.

  His from the past to present. From now until tomorrow. From tomorrow to the next day and then the day after.

  I’m not sure what exactly happened the moment after that. But as I poured my energy from my body and into Guy’s person, I watched as the marks on my partner’s body began to appear, rising like jagged neon tattoos that glowed under the lights above.

  His body surged with warmth.

  I felt the telltale signs of ice begin to develop along my fingers.

  I whispered, “Guy.”

  And he said, “Remain calm.”

  So I did, putting my trust in him completely, allowing our bodies to bridge with hoarfrost as I became warm flesh.

  My heart hammered. My mind raced. My body, though, sung.

  Within moments, Guy’s eyes were blazing the brightest aqua I’d ever seen them.

  A blue light passed from him, then into me.

  I shuddered. Grimaced. Then fell against him.

  I asked, “Is it over?”

  And Guy said, “It’s done.”

  I pulled away and looked into his eyes.

  The same marks I had seen during our encounter with the Kelda decorated his body—stark against his skin, trailing from his eye and lips.

  Around us, the Kaldr began to file out.

  “It is done,” Amadeo said, in as sure a voice as possible. “Jason DePella. From this day forth, you will be known as the bóndi of the Svell Kaldr Guy Winters, otherwise known as husband. May your bond be forever and strong.”

  I looked up just in time to see Amadeo give us a somber nod before directing a very-irate Elliot Winters from the room.