Found by Frost: Wings, Wands and Soul Bonds Book 1

by Bolryder, Terry

  And we need to be careful who we bond with, especially with bonds that lead straight to our souls.

  Too much contact only causes confusion. That’s why a prince must carefully choose his match.

  Soul matches will be stronger together, always growing in their bond and their power.

  That’s what I want with my match.

  With Avery.

  Thump.

  I sit up, looking at the time on my watch. Three o’clock. She can’t possibly be going out again, not after what just happened.

  I shove my way out of bed, hurry into the hallway, and catch her just as she is headed out of her room, pulling on her jacket.

  She stares at me wide-eyed. “I almost forgot about you. Sorry, but I need to go out.”

  I can’t believe she’s even trying this. “It’s too risky to go tonight with chaos still out there.”

  She firms her lips into a frown, and I can tell she’s going to be stubborn about this. “It’s not negotiable. I won’t go on my night rounds, but this is someone special. Someone I will never tell no.”

  I sigh, running a hand through my hair and wondering how one woman can get into so much trouble.

  “Where you go, I go,” I say finally.

  She puts her hands on her hips. “We aren’t bonded or whatever yet.”

  “I know,” I say. “But I was still assigned to protect you. If I can’t convince you to stay home for your own good, then I’ll be by your side, keeping you safe.”

  I think she’s flushing in the darkness, but as she ducks her head, it’s hard to tell.

  “Fine,” she says. “But I promise I can handle this, and besides, you’ll probably have a hard time understanding what’s going on.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask, following her out into the hallway as she locks the door behind us. I think for a moment about warning the others we are leaving, but I’m sure I can handle this myself.

  “We’re going to a domestic violence shelter,” she says. “My friend runs it, and she asks me to help out sometimes.”

  “If it’s some kind of public problem, shouldn’t she call the cops?”

  Avery shakes her head. “There’s a slight issue with some of the cops in her local department. I’ve met some really good cops in my day, but a bad one? A bad one can mess a lot of things up.”

  “What do you mean?”

  She puts her hands on her hips. “What aren’t you getting about this? If they’re corrupt and they like the perp, they’ll let him off. Take his side.”

  “Take whose side?” I’m really confused now as I follow her out to her car.

  “The domestic violence offender, rather than the victim.”

  She opens her door, and I’m still trying to make sense of the term “domestic violence.”

  “Does that mean violence that happens in this country?” I ask, thinking of domestic imports.

  She gapes at me like I’ve turned into my true form in public or something. “You’re unreal.”

  She sighs as she unlocks the doors on her small red car and comes around to show me how I have to lift the door slightly to open it.

  “You’ll break it otherwise,” she says.

  She starts it up, then blows on her hands, warming them as little puffs come out. I want to take her hands and warm them, but I promised I wouldn’t touch.

  “Look, before we head out, I have to honestly know. Do you not know what domestic violence is?”

  I shake my head because it wasn’t exactly covered in my training.

  “It’s when someone hurts their domestic partner. Who they live with.”

  I sit bolt upright, knocking my head on the top of the car. As I rub it, wincing, I feel pain all the way down to my soul at what she’s describing. “You mean… someone they love?” My heart feels stunned by this. “Why? Why would they do that?”

  She blinks at me, and I can see sadness on her face. “You know, I almost wish I didn’t have to tell you about this.” She starts up the car. “It’s one of the uglier aspects of this world.”

  “I don’t understand,” I say, pushing back the chaos that threatens to invade my heart at the thought of this.

  She looks away from me, slightly slumped. “You really are innocent, aren’t you?”

  “No,” I say. “I’ve seen terrible things, but I just don’t understand what the motivation is to hurt someone you love.”

  “Chaos, if that’s what you want to call the darkness in all of us, moves on,” she says. “It passes from person to person.”

  “I don’t believe that,” I say. “In my world, they are separate. If someone does something to suggest they are under the influence of chaos, they are moved to a world where chaos can reign. With other agents of chaos. And if they come for us—”

  “You fight them. I get it,” she says. “It sounds like a utopia in some ways, but that’s not how it works here.”

  “What is to be gained from this?” I ask, utterly lost. We should fight only those who are agents of chaos. Not our loved ones. Not in our homes. “How could someone do such a thing?”

  “Is there no domestic violence in your world?” She looks at me expectantly.

  I shake my head. “I’m not saying all couples are perfect. But fae have bonds. Between our family. Our friends. Our loved ones. Anyone around us. I am even bonded with those princes I call friends. We do not believe we can do terrible things without affecting one another. We fight only to protect each other.” I shake my head.

  “So you don’t have any domestic violence shelters?” She glances over at me when we reach a light.

  “Shelters?”

  “For women escaping men who hurt them.”

  My eyes widen, and I slowly shake my head. “No. Again, we are bonded. Besides, female fae are just as strong as males and… Wait. So you’re saying human males, who are generally stronger than females, actually hurt or kill women who love them? And enough that you build buildings to hold their victims? Rather than taking in the abusers?”

  She bites her lip, not wanting to look at me this time. “I don’t know what to tell you. It’s weird that you don’t know.”

  “No,” I say sharply because it feels as though the world has been turned upside down. “I’m the one who is normal. Anyone who would hurt someone who loves them or who is weaker or anyone who isn’t a threat to them… that is something I do not understand. It is chaos, pure chaos, and I don’t see why it’s allowed to grow to this extent.”

  “It’s a dark world,” she says. “But I choose to stay in it. What is my other option?”

  She could come to my world, but I don’t say that.

  “So what are we going to do at this shelter place? Why is she calling you?”

  Avery frowns. “This is the one person who knows about my strength. She saw something when we were younger. When I moved back here, we met up again, and I agreed to help her out. Honestly, it’s something I believe in.”

  “What is?”

  “Helping at the shelter when an abuser shows up or threatens to show up.”

  I squint. “Why would he do that? To apologize?” I fold my arms even tighter. “I would think it would be too late.”

  “No,” she says, gripping the steering wheel tightly. “You know, now that I’m saying it out loud, this really all does sound even more screwed up, but here goes. They come to get their wives back. You know, because they think they shouldn’t have left. Sometimes they’re violent or threaten the shelter, and—”

  I put up a hand because I can’t take much more without darkness in my heart. “I understand. I can do more research. You shouldn’t have to say any more out loud.”

  “You don’t have to do research,” she says hesitantly.

  “I do if it involves my soul bond or, well, the woman I’m protecting.”

  She lifts one shoulder. “I promise I can handle this. I’ve done it countless times.”

  I hate that also.

  I’m quiet the rest of the way until we p
ull up in front of a building. Avery parks before immediately getting out and slamming her door, already jogging for the front of the building.

  A short woman with frizzy blond hair pulled back into a ponytail looks at her with relief as she undoes some kind of lock and pulls the door open.

  The blond woman looks hesitantly at me as I’m exiting the car.

  “He can’t come in. No men, sorry,” she says, glancing up at me with tired eyes that show the effects of years of battling chaos. “If he’s your friend, I’m sure he’s nice, but—”

  “It’s fine,” I say, already liking this woman a lot. She’s clearly a warrior, even if she isn’t physically strong. “I shall wait here in the dark.”

  They both look at me, and Avery raises an eyebrow. “Is that meant to be passive-aggressive?”

  “What?”

  “I mean, are you saying it like it’s fine but trying to make us feel bad for it?”

  I frown. “Of course not. I meant what I said. I’m simply fine to wait here, and it’s dark.”

  “But you’ll freeze,” the blonde says, looking worried.

  I grin up at her. “No, I won’t.”

  Avery looks torn. “Are you sure you don’t want to wait in the car?”

  “I’m fine here,” I say firmly. She shrugs, tossing me the keys, but I just pocket them as she disappears inside the building.

  I don’t like the idea of being in the car where it would take me longer to get out in case I’m needed.

  I have never minded the cold, so I just walk around the side of the building and lean against it, contemplating everything Avery has told me and waiting for whatever may come.

  11

  Avery

  “Well, that is one gorgeous man,” Sally says, grinning at me with tired eyes as she leads me into the lobby where we can stand by the front desk and keep watch.

  She puts her hands on her hips, which is comical since she’s wearing a puffy blue snow coat. “Tell me you’ve finally gotten a boyfriend.”

  My mind floods with a million retorts about how I’d never date such a weirdo, but I decide it’s easier to go with her assumption. “Sure, he’s my boyfriend.”

  That explains his presence as much as anything.

  “You don’t sound convinced,” Sally says. “Ah, well, maybe you can tell me more later.”

  “Right. Tell me why you need my help.” I follow her as she pulls out some notes, some photos.

  “This family, the Kearnses, is currently staying with us as of last week. But we’ve been getting threatening calls, and the family has been receiving threats from an unknown number.”

  “You’ve told the cops?”

  She sighs. “The dad is another friend of the police captain.” She slams her hand on the desk in frustration. “All he tells us is it’s our fault for keeping a man from his family when he probably didn’t do anything wrong. Or she provoked him.”

  I look at the pictures spread in front of me. The bruises on the children’s faces. The bruises on the mother’s… everything.

  I wince as I push them aside, under another piece of paper. It’s a scene I’m familiar with. One I don’t have to see again to do the right thing.

  “Think you can handle him? We think he’s going to show up tonight.”

  “Why?” I ask, shoving one hand in my pocket to make sure I have a knife handy.

  She gives me a baleful look. “Because he called and told us he was coming and we’d better have his wife ready.”

  I curse just as headlights shine from the parking lot, illuminating the snow perched on everything and the little flakes falling in the dark.

  An expensive-looking SUV pulls up right in front of the shelter, and I gently push Sally back out of sight as I move to the other side to hide where I can peek through the door.

  A man gets out. Tall, portly. He’s wearing causal clothing, but I can tell he’s usually in a suit. His gray hair is crisply combed back, but his face is florid.

  I recognize the lines of cruelty there, and his eyes are beady as he scans the building in front of him, an angry set to his flat mouth.

  He strides up to the building, pulling something out of his pocket.

  To my surprise, a gunshot aimed at the sky lights up the night, waking everyone in the shelter and causing total panic.

  “You bring my wife out right fucking now, or I’m coming in there!”

  He lowers the gun at the door, and my heart stops because I’ll never be there in time to stop him from shooting through the glass. What if the bullet goes far enough to hit someone?

  “One… two…” He pulls back the hammer.

  I try to decide if throwing myself in front of the doors would help stop the bullet’s travel somewhat. Because kids are spilling out into the hall, panicked and screaming.

  Some of them have lived through terrible violence. They know the sound of a gun.

  But before the shooter can get to three, a blur jumps out of the dark, knocking him over and out of sight of us all.

  I catch just a flash of ash-blond hair and know it’s Brett.

  Gasping with relief, I shove open the doors while yelling to Sally to keep everyone back from the entrance.

  Brett’s outside, wrestling the man on the ground, who is cursing and flailing in an attempt to get out from under him.

  Brett looks a little lost as he tries to control the man. He’s trying to be careful with his strength and looks a little like a man trying to restrain a rabid dog.

  The man beneath him is bigger, at least in weight, but Brett is pure muscle.

  I skid to a halt on the sidewalk behind him. “What can I do?”

  “Grab the gun,” Brett says, pinning the man’s hand down and slamming it until the gun falls out of his grip.

  The man snarls at me as I run to grab the weapon. I take it in shaking hands because I’ve come to a lot of calls here but never seen someone go this far.

  “What are you doing?” Brett asks when he finally has the man utterly pinned, straddled, and is holding both the man’s hands over his head on the cement. “Why would you fire on women and children? Why would you fire on anyone?”

  The man looks infuriated to be so powerless, and I have to try not to laugh at his situation.

  Brett is so calm and clearly doesn’t care how he looks. “Is the chaos so deep inside you?” He puts both of the man’s squirming hands in one of his and then sighs as if the weight of the world is on him as he presses his other hand to the man’s forehead. “I would not wish to bond with you, but I must see what you have done.”

  What? What does he mean see?

  Brett sits there for a moment, and all I can hear is the man’s heavy breathing, his curses as he tries to get Brett off.

  Then I see Brett start shaking. I run around in front of him just in case he needs help pinning down this jerk’s arms.

  But when I see his face, I realize his movement has nothing to do with the struggles of the man beneath him and everything to do with what he just “saw.”

  To my shock, in the light of the overhead lamps, I can see a tear stream down Brett’s cheek, and he closes his eyes as snowflakes fall gently around him.

  For a moment, the world fades away from me, and all I can see or feel is his pain.

  His pain at how the world is. His pain at what this man has done.

  For some reason, I can feel it like a stream reaching from his heart to mine. I gasp and put my hand over my chest where I can feel it aching.

  I can’t be separate from him right now.

  When Brett opens his eyes, tears are still streaming. But as he entwines his hands with the other man’s, pushing them back down, his expression grows dark.

  “You will never use these hands to hurt another person.”

  A blue glow emanates from Brett’s hands, and I run to the entrance to make sure no one is watching. The air grows cold, and the man begins to scream. Louder and higher. At its peak, Brett finally steps back, and the man just lies there,
twitching.

  I stop in front of the doors, glancing back to see Sally has moved everyone out of the lobby. Then I sigh in relief.

  I turn back to Mr. Kearns, who’s still lying on the ground, weeping and holding his arms to his chest.

  My jaw drops as I see that his hands are completely black, right down to the wrists.

  “Did you know what he did?” Brett looks at me with haunted eyes. “Did you see?”

  “I saw pictures,” I say softly. I can sympathize with Brett. This isn’t an easy thing to face. But I also don’t know if he went too far, if he’s going to get in trouble.

  The man is struggling to get up, his face still full of rage.

  As I look closer at his hands, though Brett is blocking me physically from going over to him, I realize something astonishing.

  Brett gave him complete frostbite. His hands are stiff and black, the kind that will never move again.

  The kind that will have to be amputated.

  I fight back a grin, remembering the photos I’ve just seen.

  Revenge isn’t right, but it is sweet sometimes. Especially when it means someone like this isn’t going to be able to attack a shelter anytime soon.

  “I didn’t do it to be cruel,” Brett says softly, for my benefit only. “I did it to prevent him re-offending. I wish there was a chaos realm I could send him to instead.”

  “Uh, we sort of call that jail,” I say.

  “Then why isn’t he there?” Brett asks, whirling to face me. “Why is he here? Why is no one but us here to stop him? Who puts him in jail?”

  “The police.”

  “Why aren’t they here?”

  “I told you it’s complicated. Our world just isn’t like yours.”

  He turns away. “I’m sorry. I do not mean to show anger toward you. I am having trouble comprehending all of this. I came here to battle chaos princes, not humans.”

  But as I glance at Mr. Kearns’s hands, I think Brett did a pretty good job, at least with this human.

  “I don’t have clearance to kill him,” Brett says simply. “So I guess I will leave this to your police and hope one of the good ones shows up.”

  Brett sits outside a few feet from Mr. Kearns, making sure he doesn’t move, and I stand near him.