Ice Cold Death

by Alexes Razevich

  From the corner of my eye, I saw things that ran, crawled, slithered, and flew racing toward the rift. My mind spun. Of course. Of course. If Dee and I both left the rift, the things would see their chance and take it. Most of the beasts were too big; they’d never fit through the rift still not mended. But there were four or five small things, tiny enough to slide into our world. Small things but mean. I felt their malevolence like bites to my soul.

  I stopped, frozen in place. Save Dee or mend the last of the rift and keep the evil in the Brume?

  I whirled back to the membrane and channeled the intense energy roiling through me into the orb, willing it to work faster, to close the rift before the beasts could get through.

  It seemed to take forever. The orb was hot in my hand. Burning. There was only a tiny speck left to close. I rubbed the orb over the last bit and the rift sealed shut. The membrane sighed.

  I pulled to my feet and turned. The sand cloud was gone, and Dee with it. My heart clenched.

  The demon-beasts howled with rage and turned to attack their neighbors, as if they needed some way—any way—to vent their frustration. My heart pounded. Sweat trickled down my sides. Dee was gone, and I had no way out of this place.

  Almost as one, the beasts stopped attacking each other and noticed me again. Fear rooted me to the spot. Even if I could make my legs run, there was no place to go.

  Then the klim was there—suddenly—only feet away. “Who knows what magic the klim has,” Dee had said. This magic at least—to travel from wherever Dee had sent it and be here now.

  I stood alone, my back against the membrane.

  The klim grinned its wart-hog smile and leapt at my throat.

  21

  Time seemed to slow. The klim leaned toward me in infinite increments, its warty gray arms outstretched, its black, horn-covered hands reaching toward my throat. Dark energy poured from the beast, cascading over me like dirty water.

  My heartbeat seemed to slow, too, which was weird considering how terrified I was. Focus, I told myself. Focus. Watch the hands but also watch the chest; hands can wave everywhere but the beast will move in the direction its chest points. Don’t get fooled.

  Don’t think about Diego.

  Oh my God. Dee.

  Focus.

  The eagle on my arm tingled and pulsed. Energy burst inside me, spreading from my chest out through my arms, down my legs, up to the top of my head. I swept the klim’s meaty arm away as if it were nothing more than a twig.

  The beast roared its rage. It swiped toward me again. I crouched and pushed off with my legs, propelling myself forward, my body angled so my shoulder landed dead center of the klim’s chest. The beast stumbled, wobbling back a few steps on shaky legs.

  These are things you learn on the rink: make use of distance. Lead into a collision with your shoulder. Bend your knees to lower your center of gravity. Know what you’re going to do next but be ready to change your plan.

  I used that distance, launching myself forward again and slamming hard into the klim. The beast fell. I fell on top of it and grabbed for its throat.

  I was fast but the klim was faster. Claws extended from the tips of the klim’s horn-covered hands. I jerked back as its nails raked across my throat. Panic made my belly feel like it was filled with ice, but no blood dripped from where the klim had caught me. That was good.

  If I didn’t want to wind up with my throat slit like Brad Keel, I couldn’t give the klim a second swipe at me. I grabbed for its arms, to pin them down.

  The beast twisted its body, throwing me off. I hit the marshy ground on my back, the give of the soil lessening the impact. The beast leapt for my throat, its maw open, and roaring as though declaring its win. Its breath smelled like rotted meat. My ears rang from its roar. I barely managed to roll away from its reach. I jumped to my feet before the klim could catch me on the ground again.

  Other beasts roared back at the klim. In my peripheral vision, legs moved restlessly, and feet stomped as the beasts ached to join in. Something cold and wet licked across my back, sending shivers up my spine.

  In that moment of distraction, the klim closed a hand around my ankle and I tumbled down again.

  The beast half-lifted itself, half-plunged forward and landed on top of me. Its arms clamped around my body, pinning my arms to my sides. The klim squeezed, pushing the air from my lungs. Its eyes glittered.

  My tattoo burned. Magic, energy, and will screamed in my blood. I pushed my arms hard out to the sides, breaking the klim’s hold. The moment I was free, I leapt back to my feet and shoved my boot-shod foot hard into the klim’s throat. It grabbed my ankle again and pulled. I fell over hard on ground so marshy, that as I sank, the soil seemed to try to close around me.

  The klim levered up and over me, pressing its fist in the hollow of my throat, pushing my head deeper into the ground. I choked and gagged. The klim grinned its wart-hog grin. Black energy poured off it like jets of steam.

  Desperate energy poured into my mind and muscles. Now was the moment. If I couldn’t stop the beast with this effort, I didn’t know if I’d have the strength to try again. I grabbed the klim’s arm in both my hands and flipped the beast onto its back on the ground. I struggled out of the marsh to my feet and dropped down on the klim’s chest. Surprise and anger were in its eyes.

  Now was the moment. Now, or maybe never. I didn’t hesitate.

  I clamped my hands on both sides of the klim’s head and twisted hard and fast. The sound of cracking bone seemed to fill the Brume.

  And then silence, as if all the creatures of the Brume had died with the klim.

  I stood, breathing hard. Sweat covered my skin. The klim lay dead beneath me.

  The silence broke in a cacophony of wild sounds. Beasts that had watched the struggle hissed and growled as they moved toward me—an army of things that slithered, flew, or bolted forward on any number of legs, their eyes glinting with frenzy. Things with teeth and claws. Things of hunger and rage.

  The rift was closed. I had nowhere to run even if I had the strength. Every muscle in me ached. I couldn’t fight them all off.

  “Dee,” I screamed as I came to my feet, wanting his name to be my last word, my final battle cry. I closed my hands into fists and leaped toward the closest beast.

  Blue light filled my eyes, nearly blinding me. Wind whipped my hair and chilled my skin. I felt myself falling, falling . . .

  When I hit bottom, I lay on my side on the floor in my parlor, panting hard. My throat ached where the klim had tried to strangle me.

  Dee reached out a hand to help me up. I blinked up at him, unsure if he were real or something my mind conjured to comfort me in my last seconds.

  “You’re home, Oona,” he said. “You’re safe.”

  I felt the truth of his words.

  I took his hand but only pulled myself into a sit. My heart felt ready to burst through my chest. Every muscle in my body cried out in pain. My throat seemed as dry as a lake on the moon. I licked my lips and said, “You’re alive.” And then, “Water.”

  He grinned an acknowledgment, reached into a pocket, and handed me the same container we’d shared in the Brume. I drank deeply and handed it back with a shaky hand.

  “Is the rift still closed?” I said, desperation clear in my voice.

  Dee nodded. “Sealed up tight. You did a fantastic job on that.”

  “Are you sure?” I said.

  “Yes,” he said. “I checked it on the way out.”

  It was an audacious statement. Checked it how? But the only vibe radiating off him was a bit of annoyance that I’d questioned his word. He’d checked. The rift was closed. That was that.

  “How did you get us home?” I said. “The cloud carried you off. I was terrified for you.” My voice dropped to a whisper. “I heard you scream. I thought the cloud had killed you.”

  He sank down to the floor next to me. “I guess I’m hard to kill. As hard to kill as you are. And, I had a little extra up my sleeve.” He p
aused. “You didn’t feel anything special from your new ink?”

  The water had helped. Being back in my house helped. Dee being alive definitely helped. My brain still felt a little worn out and fuzzy, but bit by bit I was becoming myself again.

  “I felt it tingling. Sort of telling me it was there and would do its best to protect me. When I fought the klim, it burned like fire.”

  I looked at him and swallowed hard. “I killed it, Dee. Broke its neck. I …” Words stuck in my throat. I had no idea how to speak the emotions running through me. My pleasure and pride at having bested the klim. My horror that I’d killed a living, sentient being and was glad about it. I wasn’t sorry I’d done it but was sad it had been necessary. I was more than a little surprised I’d been capable of it. Survival is a powerful motivator.

  “The tingle is the sign that the tat is armed and ready,” he said, not letting me dwell on the death. “That ink gives more than a bit of protection.”

  I waited for him to go on.

  “The Gate mixed the inks personally and specially,” he said. “Every time you felt the tingle, the magic in the ink flooded into you. Whatever magic you or I brought into the Brume was intensified and multiplied.” He paused again. “You didn’t notice you could do things today that you couldn’t yesterday?”

  I thought about that. “You gave me the healing spell once, and I knew it by heart. I knew the sand cloud’s emotions.” I thought more about the question. Better to think about that than the klim. “More than abstract knowing, though. It was like being powered by the cloud’s emotions, but they were turned around.” I shook my head. “That’s not quite right.” I tried again. “The cloud’s negative emotions enhanced positive power in me and helped me close the rift. When the klim attacked me, its negative emotions gave me the strength I needed to defeat it.”

  “That’s exactly what happened,” he said. “When the cloud grabbed me, every raging, furious emotion it had while we battled charged my personal power. It was pretty heady stuff.”

  “The power?”

  “Yeah,” Dee said. “I’m strong, but I swear, Oona, once the cloud had me and poured all its anger and hatred my way, I was invincible.”

  “Still?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. I wouldn’t mind keeping that kind of power.”

  I pulled off my hoodie and touched the eagle on my upper arm. Having negative emotions affect me positively seemed terrific on the surface—it would make being in public a lot easier—but in my experience, great gifts tended to come with consequences.

  He touched the place on his chest near his heart where the numeral one embraced by a crescent moon lay. “I’m pretty sure The Gate did this on purpose.”

  “Gave us magical ink?”

  “I thought he’d probably do that, though it wasn’t promised, and you never know with him. The Gate purposefully had us take the other’s symbol into the Brume. The ink converted the cloud’s dark emotions into power for me. Ink in a tat that not only symbolized you but was designed by you. Basically, symbolically, you saved my life.”

  That was a little too much to contemplate at the moment. I levered myself up to my feet. “You want a beer? I could use one.”

  Dee followed me into the kitchen. I pulled two Tecates and a bowl of limes from the fridge, popped my beer open and set the other on the table in the spot where he usually sat.

  “Why would The Gate do that with the tats?” I said.

  He settled in the chair and popped open his can. “The Gate would tell you that I don’t always play well with others.”

  I scoffed. “You play a team sport at a level where it’s all about being a team player, not an individual. Can’t get much more ‘plays well with others’ than that.”

  “Goalie,” he said and shrugged. “All by myself back there in net, waiting to make that big, spectacular save.”

  “Are you saying The Gate set this whole thing up as some sort of ‘learn to be a team player’ exercise for you?”

  Dee took a deep swallow of beer and set the can on the table. “Hardly. He’s not that big an asshole. Or that powerful. But he’s not one to let an opportunity go by either.”

  I took another swallow of beer, my mind churning, slipping into rehashing all that had happened in the Brume. The crack of the klim’s bones.

  Dee leaned forward and stroked my cheek softly. “There were lessons for you in the Brume too.”

  I caught his hand against my cheek and held it there, needing that human touch.

  He left his hand there a long moment before moving it away.

  “I like working alone,” he said. “You do too, but for a whole other reason. I don’t want to be responsible for anyone but myself. You don’t want anyone close to you for fear of what you’ll feel from them, what they might want from you. Knowing The Gate, he saw this as an opportunity for us both to learn something. He tends to be that way.”

  He upended the can and finished what was left inside. He got up, put the empty can in the recycling bin, and sat back down. It struck me that we’d become mighty comfortable and casual around the other in a very short time.

  “The thing is,” Dee said, “we work well together. Two weeks ago, we didn’t know each other. Since meeting, we’ve solved several murders and stopped anything else from coming over from the Brume into our world. Neither of us could have done it alone. It’s kind of impressive.”

  I tilted my head in agreement. We did seem to be a good pairing in a lot of ways. We got along and were comfortable together. We trusted each other. We had sort of saved the world together. We definitely fit together in bed. So why did my stomach clench at the couple vibe he was giving off?

  “If my sign saved your life, does it work out that your sign saved mine?” I said.

  He nodded. “Once The Gate knew we were going into the Brume together, he would have done his best to make sure we both came out alive. Your sigil on me. Mine on you. Team play plus magic ink equals mutual salvation.”

  I sipped at my beer. “Thank him for that the next time you see him.”

  Dee smiled. “I will.”

  Exhaustion settled on me suddenly. I wanted a meal, a shower, and a very long sleep. Alone.

  Dee sighed and closed his eyes—as worn out as I was and wanting the same things I did. Except he wanted to stay here tonight. Not to keep me safe, I didn’t need his protection anymore—but because he liked my company. My human touch. I had to decide if I wanted to invite him or not.

  These conflicted emotions were getting tiresome. Time to make a decision.

  Tonight, choice meant picking between a warm body to curl next to, and my whole bed to myself. Choosing a friendly face in the morning, or peaceful solitude to start the day. A man who could actually cook breakfast, or a meal I made myself, for myself, without having to ask if he liked pepper in his eggs.

  Dee offered someone who knew exactly how horrific this time had been and had shared the terrors of today. A lover I didn’t have to hide my abilities from and who encouraged me to greater strength. A man I liked a lot and could be myself with. Someone who would have my back and would let me have his.

  A partner.

  The idea was growing on me.

  Afterword

  Thank you for reading this book. I would be most grateful if you’d take a moment to leave a review on Amazon and Goodreads. Thank you.

  Author’s Note

  My very first favorite book when I was a kid was an illustrated version of The Arabian Nights. I loved those stories, especially “The Singing Tree,” which is not one of the more famous ones but had a huge influence on me. The next book I fell in love with was Madeleine L’Engle’s A Wrinkle in Time. You can see where this is going—science fiction, fantasy, and the idea of magic in the everyday world grabbed me early and never let go.

  As I grew older, mysteries caught my attention. I loved Agatha Christie and Dorothy L. Sayers. Later I loved Martin Cruz Smith and Adrian McKinty. There was som
ething very reassuring about those stories: the world and life may fall to pieces but in the end all will be put if not right, at least right-ish.

  So it’s a little surprising it took me so long to combine murder mysteries and magic together in a story. And hockey. I love playing hockey and yet had never written characters that also played the game.

  With Ice-Cold Death, I finally mashed all my favorite things together. The result is in your hands. I very much hope you enjoyed it.

  Would you do me a favor? If you loved this book, thought it was meh, or even if you hated it would you be so kind as to leave a short review on Amazon? Your comments will help other readers decide if this might be something they’d like to dive into.

  Ice-Cold Death is the first story in the projected five book Oona Goodlight series. If you’d like to know when book two, Barbed Wire Heart, comes out please join my VIP Readers here: VIP Readers, or meet and discuss with other readers in my Facebook group Alexes Razevich Readers and Friends.

  Thank you for reading.

  Alexes Razevich

  Also by Alexes Razevich

  The Ahsenthe Cycle

  If you enjoy being immersed in an alien world and like stories with strong female characters, The Ahsenthe Cycle has everything you’re looking for.

  Book one: Khe

  Book two: Ashes and Rain

  Companion story: Gama and Hest

  Book Three: By the Shining Sea

  The Girl with Stars in her Hair – Cassie Goodlight has one year to save her kidnapped brother. Magic is the only way. Not exactly a prequel to the Oona Goodlight stories, but interesting for those wanting to know more about Oona’s ancestors.

  Shadowline Drift – A psychological thriller with science fiction and fantasy elements. Perfect for fans of Inception or Lost.