The Bite of Winter (International Monster Slayers Book 2)

by Bethany Helwig

  My breathing becomes shallow and fast. He’s infuriating. I want to punch that smug smile off his face and slam his head face first into the tabletop. Everything about him makes me want to turn violent.

  “I carry secrets,” he says quietly, almost but not quite a whisper. “I learned a lot of interesting things during my time in Moose Lake. Each secret opens a door to intriguing possibilities. Be careful, and I might even open the right one for you. Don’t make me pick the wrong door.”

  The veiled threat is obvious to me. Dasc knows my potential, sure, but what if he also discovered Hawk’s secret? What if he learned my brother isn’t taking the serum? I can’t take that chance. I don’t want to play this game but I’ve been forced to the table. I might as well try my hand at it.

  “One question,” I say. “I answer one, and you tell me what I want to know.”

  “Agreed.”

  I remain rigid in my seat as far away from him as possible, so he leans further across the table trying to breach my personal space.

  “A little over fourteen years ago I was in Moose Lake,” Dasc begins, which isn’t what I’m expecting at all. “I’ll admit I was there changing the population steadily and growing my numbers. That city is the perfect place for experimentation, you see. It’s small but large enough. People know each other but aren’t familiar with every face. It’s not so well known. Close to a major roadway, yet tucked back in the woods. And they’ve had numerous sightings of wolves in the area.”

  I have no idea where he’s going with this but I’m intrigued and terrified all the same. I’ve wanted to know why he did what he did all this time and he’s just chatting away like it’s something everyone knows.

  “I blended in and got to know the kids. People tend to underestimate the younger generation.” He nods to himself and smiles a little like he’s recalling a pleasant memory instead of turning a bunch of teenagers into monsters. “I didn’t think the IMS agents in the area were much of a threat. Mostly they ran around in circles trying to find the cause of what was going on in their quaint little town.”

  Heat races up my neck and flushes my cheeks. Those agents he’s talking about were my parents and Jefferson. How dare he.

  “I was almost too late to act by the time I realized they were actually rather clever,” he continues, inching towards me across the table. “I figured if I changed them, put them under my . . . sway, they would be incredibly useful. I planned to change your whole family. I couldn’t leave even one of the Masons unturned. They’d feel left out.”

  My breathing is harsh and my hands tremble as I clench them into fists.

  “Your parents were fighters,” he says in a soft voice as if trying to console me. “I never meant to end their lives. Then only you and your brother were left. Obviously, I had to change you both. You didn’t have any family left, so you’d need a new one.” Then he smiles to himself and almost starts to laugh. “I remember you punched me in the nose after I bit your brother. Such spirit! Even then you were doing everything you could to protect your family.”

  My whole body is shaking. I’m about to react. It’s building up inside me like a volcano ready to erupt.

  “So my question is, after all that terrible tragedy, how long did it take until Draco showed up to save you? Rather convenient, his timing, don’t you think?”

  I’m moving before I can stop myself. My chair screeches across the floor as I fling it backwards and rise. My fist plummets into the side of Dasc’s face with the full weight of my body and every ounce of magic I’ve got. I follow through as Dasc’s face jerks to the side with the satisfying crunch of bones snapping, abrading the skin across my knuckles.

  Something dense and powerful hits me square in the back and I tumble forward onto the table before falling to the floor, stunned. My brain and body decide to stop working and I remain there until someone pulls me up and drags me by the armpits out of the room. It takes a while before I finally come to my senses and find I’m sitting in the white paneled hallway, my back against a wall. My hand throbs—blood has welled beneath the tender, bruising skin of my knuckles. Major Lynch, the director, and Draco stand around me arguing with each other. They might also be occasionally yelling in my direction but my head feels fuzzy. I blink a few times and focus on the conversation at hand.

  “I told you she wasn’t ready for this kind of confrontation!” Director Knox shouts. He looks furious. Good for him. I’m furious too.

  “Our options were limited,” Draco says calmly, almost bored. “I accepted the possible risks of putting them in the same room together.”

  They argue this way back and forth a while longer. My eyes drift to something metallic Major Lynch is holding in his hands. It’s a bio-mech gun. I put two and two together—he must have shot me with a bio-mech pulse when I, admittedly, went crazy back there.

  I slowly rise to my feet and cradle my painful hand to my chest. All their eyes fall on me.

  “You can forget it,” I say before they have a chance to yell at me. “I’m done. Discipline me however you like. I’m not going back in there. And unless you decide to stop me, I’m going home.”

  Director Knox heaves a sigh and steps aside, holding out an arm to let me know I’m free to go. I slip past him and walk away, noting the numeric designation on the walls in order to find my way to the exit. I glance over my shoulder and Draco’s eyes follow me all the way until I disappear around the corner. Wheels squeak behind me and eventually Witty catches up.

  “Phoenix, I—”

  “Don’t,” I growl. “Don’t say a word or I swear I’ll punch you too.”

  At that warning he stops and leaves me to wind back through the maze of hallways to the entrance on my own. I halt before the reinforced door long enough to wonder if I need to say a password or something when the dragon’s barrier finally drops and I’m let through. The centaur and unicorn don’t say a word as I march out. I enter the main level of Underground and keep walking. I could stop and find my old friends if I wanted to, but I don’t. I want to get as far away from here as possible and as soon as possible. I’m practically jogging by the time I reach the lift.

  “Phoenix!” Bernie the guard gasps when he sees me. “Your hand—”

  “Yeah, it’s fine,” I say and hop onto the lift.

  It can’t move fast enough up the chute. The second it levels out at the top I rush past the security guards and jump into my SUV. Now that the adrenaline is starting to ease off, my hand really hurts. I pull the first-aid kit out from under the passenger seat and focus on coiling my knuckles in white gauze as blood starts to seep out between the cracks of my skin. When I’m done I just sit there and stare out the windshield at the ice breaking up on top of the Mississippi River near the edge of the parking lot.

  Dasc’s voice rings in my head. How long did it take until Draco showed up to save you? Rather convenient, his timing, don’t you think?

  It doesn’t even make sense. Is Dasc gloating about my parents not being saved in time? Or is he saying Draco intentionally waited until after my parents were killed and Hawk was turned to show up? How could the dragon even know what was going on in order to plan that? And for what purpose?

  My mind reels. Draco gave me a piece of magic as soon as he showed up to save me and Hawk. That magic now could be the key to ending the existence of the werewolf disease.

  No. Draco couldn’t have known that would happen. I didn’t even know it had happened until recently. I can’t process this.

  I grip the steering wheel with both hands, bend my forehead until it touches the hard leather grip, and start bawling my eyes out. By the time I’m finally embarrassed enough with myself to stop crying, the sun is in the sky and I’m shivering in the cold SUV. My senses flood back and I turn on the vehicle to at least get some heat going. My hands shake as I pull out my cellphone and send off a quick text to Hawk and Jefferson to let them know I’m fine and it wasn’t what we thought. I allow myself a few more minutes until I’ve recovered enough
to drive and then peel out of the parking lot.

  There’s not a lot to occupy my attention for the next couple of hours of driving once I leave Minneapolis so I process everything. I recall all that I learned about magic and the Blessed in Underground. Certain beings are born with magic, like dragons and fauns. They can use it on other people but only dragons discovered how to actually give magic to someone else. That magic then develops into abilities specific to that individual. The last time I faced Dasc he mentioned that very thing, said there was no one else quite like me, that there was no one else with a werewolf sibling that chose to save their sibling.

  I try and remember exactly what Dasc had said. Now that I think about it, the way he phrased it was odd. He almost made it sound like there were other Blessed out there that had a werewolf sibling but they chose to ignore them. Ugh! I can’t remember exactly. Have there really been others out there in the same position as me who made different choices? Or was that not what Dasc meant at all? I can’t believe I’m even considering anything he’s said. He’s a liar. He manipulated an entire city. He fooled me before.

  And yet . . .

  My mind runs in circles until I make it to Moose Lake at last. It’s not even noon yet. School will still be in session so that’s where Hawk will be. Jefferson will most likely be at the cabin. Thinking of Jefferson makes my heart sink and a pit form in my stomach. How am I going to tell him that I had a chance of learning where his daughter is and I blew it, then ran away?

  I pull off the main street in Moose Lake and make my way to the field office. A set of tire tracks leads out from the barn. Jefferson must have taken the Green Monster for a spin. I’ve got to come up with some kind of excuse for ruining our best and only chance of getting answers before he returns. I park in front of the cabin and trudge inside. Once in the quiet retreat of the cabin, I collapse into a chair at the table and hold my face in my hands. This has been a really stressful day.

  The growl of an engine outside makes me want to curl up and hide in my bed. Could I not be bothered for a while? I’d appreciate it. The engine dies right outside the cabin. A few seconds later there’s a loud forceful knock on the door.

  I raise my head. If it were Jefferson, he wouldn’t be knocking. I rub at my face, hoping beyond hope I don’t look like I’ve been crying, and move to the door. When I open it, my breath catches in my throat and I stiffen.

  Draco fills up the doorway with his presence, hands tucked into the pockets of his black dress pants. He levels his gaze at me and I automatically swallow.

  “We need to talk.”

  Chapter 6

  I don’t know what to do, so I stand there like an idiot still gripping the doorknob. It’s a good thing I’m holding it gingerly with my injured hand, otherwise I might have crumpled it. Admittedly, I’m terrified. The fact Draco followed me all the way from Underground and didn’t just call or something is a really, really bad sign. I shouldn’t have run.

  “May I come in?” he eventually prompts.

  “Oh, I—yeah, of course. Sure thing.” I hold the door open wide and he steps around me.

  It’s a strange sight to see Draco, the leader of the majestic dragons and the IMS, standing in the middle of our tiny kitchen next to the dirty dishes stacked haphazardly in the sink. He takes a slow turn, soaking in the log walls, the cobwebs in the corners, and the marred kitchen table. I reflexively have the urge to clean everything in sight but it’s too late. He probably thinks we’re a bunch of incompetent slobs.

  “Take a seat, Phoenix,” he says and pulls out a chair at the table.

  He’s here two seconds and already giving orders. Crap. I take the offered chair and he sits across from me. Every movement he makes looks carefully controlled like he knows if he moves too quickly he’ll break something. Actually, if I think about it, he probably would. Under that slim suit—and I’m not talking about his clothes—is a majestic class dragon. The physics of their transformation is a little hazy to me but it’s like they condense down. All that power is concentrated into a body a fraction of its usual size. They’re no less dangerous when they strut around looking like humans. They just aren’t spewing fire from their mouths, tearing cars in half with their teeth, or flying.

  He leans back and rests one arm on the tabletop like a lion relaxing in the comfort of his own domain.

  “I knew the risks of putting you in that room,” he says evenly. “But sometimes I forget the latitude of human emotions and how adept Dasc is at stirring them.”

  I don’t think he’s saying sorry for tossing me in with the devil but it’s hard to tell.

  “As for what Dasc alluded to—” he continues and lets out a forlorn sigh. My whole body tenses, waiting for him to say it had been his plan all along to let my parents die and Hawk be turned. He holds my gaze and says, “There was no plot, no scheme, no cold calculus in my appearance at your house. My timing, as it was, was coincidental. I received an alert after an agent searched the IMS database for the name Lycaon and came as quickly as I could. Unfortunately, I was not swift enough.”

  His eyes never waiver and each word is said with such conviction that I believe him. The tension seeps out of me and I wilt in my chair. I’m embarrassed. I let Dasc mess with my head.

  “You didn’t show up when I had Witty run a search,” I grumble. “You only came after we had captured Dasc.”

  The faintest of smirks crosses his face. Is he impressed I put together the time discrepancy so fast? Or is he smiling at a child stumbling through things she doesn’t understand and trying to tie strings together where they don’t even exist?

  “I was otherwise engaged and not in the country at the time,” is his answer.

  “Why are you so interested in Dasc?” I blurt out. Since I have Draco here, I’m anxious to get whatever information I can out of him.

  His expression never waivers. “He’s the first of his race and a powerful adversary obsessed with turning the world into his own personal pack of monsters. Isn’t that enough?”

  Well . . . yeah. I’m feeling more and more like a toddler next to Draco. I should probably stop talking before I take another blow to my intellect and pride. Then again, I was never one to make smart decisions.

  “So, what happens now?” I ask.

  “Dasc will need a few days to heal from your attack.” He doesn’t sound angry about it which makes it a little better. “But then I would implore you to return. Dasc carries more secrets than you can fathom and he’s loath to reveal them. I need to know what they are. The fact that he even suggested giving up some of them to you is out of character. So, I suggest you take this time to reflect on what’s truly important and what you are willing to do to find the truth. There are countless friends and family members that have gone missing. You could very well hold the key to their rescue. Isn’t that worth enduring unpleasantries from a tasteless sadist trapped in a cell without any real power?”

  Heat rises in my cheeks and I look away.

  He stands and I rise uncertainly as well. “I’ll contact you when we’re ready to resume the interrogations.”

  Draco moves to the door and I follow after to see him out. A familiar rumble reaches my ears and we both step out as the Green Monster pulls up the driveway. Jefferson squints at us through the windshield of his green 1970 442 classic and rolls to a stop beside a black, late model Dodge Charger which is obviously Draco’s. Wow, that dragon sure loves black. Jefferson steps out and his eyes widen as he finally recognizes Draco. The dragon gives him a rather cold gaze.

  “Agent Barnes,” he says frostily, then slides into his Charger without another word, not even a polite goodbye, and roars down the driveway.

  Jefferson doesn’t get out of the open door of his car but his attention finally falls on me, his mouth agape.

  “But that was—” he says.

  “Yup.”

  “And he was here?”

  “Yup.”

  He shakes his head. “Are you okay?”

  I have
to think about it for a moment, not really sure myself. “I’m fine.”

  “Then open the barn doors.”

  I trudge through the snow and yank open the massive barn doors so Jefferson can park inside. I close the doors behind him and we take the stairs together to the loft. He gestures for me to take a seat on the cot, which I do, and he plops down onto the table opposite me.

  “Okay. Talk. What’s going on?” he says.

  This is even harder than I imagined. Jefferson looks worried about me. Me, the one who ran away from our best shot at answers. He’s been looking for his daughter for over fourteen years. What’s a little insinuation from my parents’ murderer compared to that? My parents’ case is closed. His is still ongoing.

  “It had nothing to do with me, actually,” I say, heat crawling up my face. “Well, it did, but it wasn’t about me.”

  “Phoenix, don’t dance around it,” he says with a touch of irritation.

  “Okay, so here it is.” I heave a sigh and rest forward on my elbows. “We both know Dasc hasn’t been saying mum about anything. He won’t talk to anyone. Now, out of nowhere, he’s decided he’ll talk but—and here’s the pixie in the pie—only to me.”

  His beady eyes widen, his jaw tightens, and his knuckles turn white as he clenches his hands together. I start talking faster to get it all out in one go before he can say anything.

  “So, I went in there and he said I’d have to answer a question first before he’d answer any of mine and he started saying stuff about my parents and you being idiots and implying that Draco let my parents be murdered and Hawk turned, and then I freaked out and punched him and I got shot by the major and then I—” I say this all in rush and then suck in a deep breath before I let the real bomb drop. “And then I ran. I couldn’t—I mean, the things he said about my parents. I’m so sorry, Jefferson.”

  His eyes focus on the bandage wrapped around my knuckles and he holds a hand over his mouth like he’s trying to hold in a shout. I’m terrified. What have I done?