Hard Frost- Depths of Winter

by Thia Mackin

  I had focused on the wall, impressed by her ability to carry the tale. In my mind’s eye, I pictured it like I’d been… there. Her head turned toward me, and I glanced down to meet her eyes.

  She continued. “The other rode a shimmering palomino. The white spots on his coat matched her platinum hair and pale skin. The moment they exited the Gate, an arrow hit her directly in the chest. She never flinched. Instead, she dropped to the ground and ran to the line of hostages. As one of the bad guys fired toward her, over and over, she kept moving down the line. She never stopped until all of the prisoners left through the Gate, until she and her friend had saved all of us.”

  My throat seized. I needed her to stop. “Leara…”

  “When we got captured again, put in a cell where even she could not escape, she still tried to save us.”

  “Leara,” I repeated, a little stronger. I wasn’t this person.

  “She tried to convince my daddy to let the bad men take Mom to save me.”

  I felt the tears fill my eyes as her voice cracked. “Leara…”

  “And he really did try. I watched how much it hurt him, picking between me and Mommy. And he chose her.”

  “Please, Leara.”

  “He chose her, Kinan, because he knew the Amazonian warrior would choose me. He knew she would never stop until all of the prisoners were safe. Dad realized you would save me.”

  I wrapped my arms around her, and we sobbed together.

  Each morning, we practiced self-defense moves for hours before breakfast. Both of us ate our meals when they were delivered, determined to keep our energy up. The mortar between the stones on the floor made easy divides for us to do suicide sprints as exercise and conditioning. Sometimes, we had an audience if there were other prisoners. Most often, the two of us had the cell to ourselves.

  Leara’s story strengthened my resolve. Even if something happened to me, she’d be able to defend herself long enough to escape the person. And if she couldn’t escape, I taught her the soft parts to attack. She learned to go for the groin, for the eyes, for the instep. She practiced flat-hand strikes against the wall, and I showed her how to climb an unsuspecting attacker like a monkey up a tree to better hit and rupture the carotid.

  Asez Holding would be the best bet for both of us once we escaped. She realized, as I described the Gating spots she should use if we were separated, that her grandmother was the steward there. Her brother was a member of the guard. At night, she told me stories about her adventures in the stables with her younger cousin, Alera. Apparently, her grandmother often kept Alera since her parents also traveled a lot. Much like me, the girls found Rendle fascinating.

  My tales often featured Rankar, sometimes things I’d learned from his siblings or parents about his childhood. Usually, I relived a few of the happy moments with her—like Yule. Once, after a heartfelt talk about her going to him for help if something happened to me, I revealed the story of how we met and he saved my life.

  “That’s incredibly romantic,” she sighed.

  I snorted, trying to tamp down the laughter. “It was terribly unromantic. I’d been stupid, and steam almost literally came out of his ears. I think he was a sneeze away from lighting me on fire.”

  She snuggled closer to my side, yawning. Though the moon still shone through the window, we tended to fall asleep early. Our bodies grew more accustomed to the constant exercise, but gods, I hurt in places I’d forgotten could hurt. She had youth in her favor, but she’d never trained. Did I push her too hard? Was it not hard enough?

  “Stop thinking so hard, Kinan.” Her murmur drew a smile from me. “It makes your muscles all tense, and you aren’t as comfortable a pillow.”

  I tamped back the smile. Goddess, please let Rankar get to meet this delight. He would take to her as easily as I had, I knew it. Gods, if he could love someone as prickly as me, he’d be head-over-heart for her eternal optimism and hint of snark. “I’ll endeavor to be a better pillow,” I growled, leaning down to kiss the top of her head. “Sleep softly, warrior-girl.”

  She sighed, already half-dozing. “Sleep softly, ’nan.”

  Only, that night, I saw the future. While she dreamed peacefully, tears streamed down my face. I didn’t know when, but I had Seen how my story ended. As I’d feared, Leara would be left alone in this place. Her dad had been wrong; he had made the wrong choice. She would have no one to help her survive. All the self-defense, all the conditioning, all the love I’d tried to shower upon her might not be enough… and I wouldn’t be around to save her.

  Chapter 30

  Leara sobbed, struggling against the hands of the two guards dragging her from the cell. Though we’d been preparing for this for days and I’d begged her not to fight them, she still resisted. Weirdly, I would have felt better if Mr. Stoic had been with them. Somehow, he seemed incapable of harming a child.

  A fog of despair had lingered in the room since we woke up, and we suspected today was the day. Watching, helpless to prevent them from separating us, I silently willed her to remember everything from our lessons. As extra reassurance, I sent a prayer up to the Goddess for my warrior-girl’s safety. Please remind her where to go when she gets free of this place. Help her remember how to open a Gate and find her way back to Asez.

  The last time I’d felt so useless I’d watched the barn roof collapse on the trapped animals inside as the firefighter kept me from saving them. The practical voice inside my head whispered that I’d only make things worse on her if I attacked the men pulling her from the room. The third guard—a new guy who seemed to be enjoying Leara’s screams—held a gun on me. However, the short distance between us wouldn’t be enough to keep me from killing him before the bullet caused enough damage to stop me.

  Sure, they’d learn I was paranormal, but I’d already been imprisoned this long for being one. If it came as a surprise to them, their bad. You left the Sirachs to protect them, just like you are protecting Leara by letting them remove her from danger. You can’t do anything. She’s in the Goddess’s hands now.

  As the door closed behind them, I tried to convince myself she would be fine as I slid down to the pallet. Pulling out Alena’s belt buckle, I studied the metal for a minute before carefully manipulating one end to a point to create a shiv or makeshift weapon. Looping two fingers around the flat metal piece, I began rubbing it against the rock. One side, the other. One side, the other. The repetitive motion brought my heartbeat down from racing, slowed my breathing. The thought of shoving it through the first guard’s throat, unfortunately, didn’t reassure me at all.

  Hours passed. I finally dozed off, only to be brought back to wakefulness by the pop of the cell door opening. My left hand tightened around the makeshift weapon, hidden at my side. Opening my eyes to slits, I saw nothing at first. My body remained relaxed to mimic sleep, and I waited. Maybe, by some miracle, Leara was being returned!

  For a moment, I allowed myself to imagine Rankar entering the door, that Hypnos had shown him exactly where I was being held. I would go home with him after a hundred apologies and a million ‘I love yous.’

  He is not Ran, my brain corrected as the first guard entered and kept to the wall… followed by four more men.

  Fuck. Three, I could handle, but…

  The door slammed closed. For a moment, my eyes struggled to readjust. However, they paused too. Taking the opportunity, I gathered myself into a defensive crouch. Adrenaline pumped through me. My heart beat uncontrollably, and my pulse pounded in my ears so loudly they should have heard it. My vision had shown me broken and covered in blood when they left; however, some of them would die before I met that end.

  My eyes adjusted, and the five men stood in shadow like they’d done this before. The man closest to me turned to look for guidance from his co-rapists. I love you, Ran. I’m sorry. So sorry. Checking my grip on the shiv, I launched myself toward him with the cry of a cat defending itself. It plunged into the side of the first man’s throat, and I jerked it toward me. Yanking i
t free caused blood to spurt, and he fell. However, the scalding blood soaked the back of my shirt as the fingers of my right hand grabbed the throat of the next nearest attacker. My left hand punched into his torso, aiming for the sweet spot between his ribs to catch his liver. I missed, but his side caved in from the force of the blow. He dropped almost instantly.

  I turned to the remaining three, standing between them and the door. Resting on the balls of my feet, I studied them as they processed the deaths of their comrades—over in seconds. One of them would react soon. They hadn’t expected this. Unarmed against a woman alone, they were still unprepared.

  With an inarticulate cry, the smallest man leapt at me. His anger at losing his friends gave me the perfect opportunity to stab into his side, aiming for his kidney. Holding him close, I shoved as deep as I could and ripped upward to incapacitate the would-be rapist. Maybe not the instant death I’d given his buddies, but he wouldn’t be attacking me or anyone else ever again. I stepped backwards to avoid the seep of blood and sewage.

  Looking away from the crimson covering my arms, I caught the other two coordinating their efforts. One grabbed the blanket from my pallet and ripped it down the center, handing one side to his accomplice. If they hadn’t meant to make me suffer before, they would try really hard to do so now. You’ve tortured yourself worse than they ever could. I choked on a laughing sob.

  The guards stared at me as though I’d lost my mind. Then, before I could blink, I landed on the floor with a heavy weight on my chest. A scream escaped at the cracking pain in my right arm, somehow trapped beneath my body and his. I bucked upward, trying to dislodge him but only freeing the useless arm. The other man had grabbed my ankles.

  My left hand felt frantically for the belt buckle that had slipped free of my grip. Then hands twisted in the front of my shirt, shredding the already weak material. However, I had the shiv in my hand again. Gripping it tightly, I stabbed sideways into the body of the man lifting me. No finesse, no thought. Just action. Repeated, desperate punches.

  He choked, blood appearing on his lips. His arm tried to block mine. Then searing pain shot from my wrist to my shoulder as the other guard grabbed my broken right arm. His buddy dropped to the ground, so he threw me hard at the wall before I could turn the weapon on him.

  My head hit the stone. Blood trickled into my eyes, blinding me. My right arm radiated pain, worse than my last gunshot wound, and wiping my face with my left hand only made it harder to see. I never saw the fist that smashed into the right side of my face, loosening one of my back teeth and sending my forehead back into the wall. Beefy fingers covered the side of my face and pushed my cheek into the crevice where wall and floor met.

  “You deserve this,” he growled, kneeling on my good arm as he fumbled with the latch on my pants. His thumb brushed my lips in his inattention, and I bit down so hard my teeth ached. Pain engulfed me, emanating from the side of my face. And again. Blackness crept like a film over my eyes.

  Hot, burning power jump-started my heart. Then the energy of a Gate trickled across my skin, and the arms holding me tightened. I whimpered. Pain. Everything hurt. My mind couldn’t even catalogue the injuries. “Dammit all,” a voice cursed, worry emphasizing every syllable. “Fucking fuckers. I’m going to burn this motherfucking place to the ground.” His grip tightened slightly, unintentionally. I screamed; no sound escaped.

  My eyelids tried to open; however, the blood had caked so thick over my eyes that nothing happened. I wiggled my fingers, hoping to touch his face. Agony arched my back. No seeing, no moving. But I had to know. “Ran? ’Nos?” The energy washing over me felt warm like electricity, not like fire. However, to an extent, the same feeling of safety idiotically attempted to lull me. Nothing is safe. Not in this place.

  We stepped into the Gate, and the Void stole the pain for a brief moment. The relief wasn’t enough that I didn’t mentally encourage him to exit the other end. No matter how much it hurt, whatever was on the other end would be a reprieve from the cell. I’d die free.

  He exited the Gate. Pain hit like a sledgehammer, and I thanked the Goddess as she took me under again.

  Kinan’s story continues and the war begins in Book 2, Cold Comfort.

  SNEAK PEEK OF

  Cold Comfort

  Chapter 1

  Glints of ice flickered in my light blue eyes as I glared up at the figure leaning over me. I flat refused to look at the black Motorola phone he was holding out, him obviously wanting me to accept the offering as a gift. Any other time I might have forced myself to stand just to use my five-foot-ten-inch height to a better advantage in our battle of wills. However, a voice in my head whispered that something would shatter inside me if my arms dropped from where they clutched my knees to my chest. So I remained crouched in the corner of the Tuatha de’s guest bedroom, barely as tall as his thigh. As if I didn’t already feel disadvantaged, the position made me more vulnerable and miniscule. I again debated rising to my feet, then considered just accepting his present so he’d leave, and—for just a moment—thought about kicking him in the kneecap to bring him down to my level. In the end, I continued to glare.

  Aaron Michael Locke stood an even six feet, had dark brown skin, short black hair, and looked like he’d spent too much time in the gym working on building muscle. Unlike many people of my experience, he didn’t find my bloodshot blue eyes frightening or threatening. The fae wasn’t even daunted by my half-hearted growl as he tapped my right leg with the cell. Of course, less than a month before, he’d volunteered to lead a team of Arrows—this new country’s policing force—into the internment camp he’d rescued me from two months ago. I knew the things I had witnessed as a prisoner in that hellhole. I probably didn’t want to imagine the atrocities he’d seen. After all, he’d been more mobile, pretending to be one of the guards.

  On the day our squad of Arrows had entered the internment camps and rescued anyone still alive, we entered so quickly, so silently that not a single guard was killed. The United States called it the Bloodbath; we called it Orion’s Vengeance. Neither title was accurate. With none of their blood shed, it was neither bloody nor vengeful. The number of our reported dead and missing grew each time someone crossed the border with horror stories of entire families stolen from their homes—including the little girl I’d tried to protect. Tomorrow, we’d give them their Bloodbath. We’d take our revenge.

  When he stepped on my toes to bring me back to the present, my eyes met his. The man was more impatient than any immortal being had earned the right to be. “Stop being a fucking child, Kinan. Take the phone, and call the damn guy.” For a moment, he had me. I blinked up at him, torn between indignity at him saying I was a child and confused curiosity about how he knew my history with Rankar Sirach. “Don’t give me that dumb-ass expression, either. I don’t have to be a fucking mind reader to comprehend that you’re pining away over someone. You’ve barely eaten a damn thing since I met you, and—if eyes are the windows to the soul—you’re living in Hell.”

  He shook the phone at me, drawing my attention back to the device. “Block the damn number. Don’t tell him that you’re crazy, going half-cocked into battle and trying to get your-damn-self killed. I don’t give a fuck. If what you say is true, tomorrow we’re going to be on the front lines of what might be the bloodiest battle this country will ever see. If you don’t do something, I’ll handcuff you and leave your ass to languish in a fucking corner.” A short toss dropped the phone into my lap. Shaking his head, he briskly exited his guest room as I stared after him with narrowed eyes.

  The worst part of it was that I wanted to call Rankar Sirach. I didn’t necessarily want to talk to him, but I did need to hear his voice desperately. In fact, I thought that—at that second—if he told me that everything was going to be okay, I’d believe him. It wouldn’t be true. All the good that he’d found in me when we’d met had been destroyed over the last eight months. I’d been strong then, but I’d been growing weaker since. How could he love someone
so broken, so dirty? The filth thrust upon me, in me… So disgusting. I shuddered as I stared down at the skin of my bare arm.

  Right now, the flesh was whole. However, it wouldn’t be after the battles to come. I’d Seen some demons literally blown apart by armored tank artillery before anyone could find the opportunity to Gate into the metal war machines and disarm the soldiers inside. Since our spies had warned of the United States’ military force approaching the borders of New Mexico—now called Orion—two days ago, I’d had nightmares that my lover for over a year and my loved one since he had first rescued me from myself was one of the Tuatha de Danaan that would not survive. I needed to call Rankar to be sure he was alive, to know if he was going to be standing between the United States and our new country.

  The phone rang inside the headset. Though it was still clutched close to my lap, the noise was distinct in the near silence of the house. I didn’t remember dialing the number, and I knew I wasn’t ready to make the call. That didn’t stop me from holding the phone to my ear as the second ring sounded. At ring number three, I decided to disconnect the call. “Sirach,” a strong baritone said, half-distracted by whatever was clanging repetitively in the background. Likely, he was drilling recruits. Or perhaps something had happened at Asez Holdings—where he was Captain of the Guard—that required his attention. No matter. The sound of his voice was enough to assure me that I would try to keep him on the line. “Hello?” he snapped.

  My mind desperately attempted to think of something to say. Some way to tell him how sorry I was for being an epic failure, for letting the things happen that had happened. To tell him goodbye before I entered a battle I didn’t plan to live through. Before the words could come to me, I heard him snarl under his breath and knew he was going to hang up. The knowledge caused panic to break free of my barriers.