The Bite of Winter (International Monster Slayers Book 2)

by Bethany Helwig

  The final bell of the day rings and we hurry to escape the halls of the high school. As soon as we’re in the SUV and the doors are shut, Hawk throws up his hands in irritation.

  “Does anything about this case make sense to you?” he asks and shifts the SUV into gear.

  I shrug and prop my elbow up on the door. “Monsters are crazy?” I suggest. “Maybe their logic is different than ours.”

  He shakes his head and takes us home. By the time we set down our backpacks in the cabin, we get another text from Jefferson reminding us to go through our combat exercises. There’s a P.S. from Melody asking us to include Charlie. We both groan. Ignoring our homework for the moment—not that we care to actually do it—we change into our exercise gear. Together we trek across the icy path to the barn and hear the snap of wood on wood inside. We stand outside the door for a moment listening before Hawk leads the way in.

  Charlie’s in his own training gear—black, sleek, and fashionable as always—and working with nunchucks against one of the dummies. The hard hits reverberate through the barn and shudder through the soles of my feet. He doesn’t even pause as he attacks and attacks again, each hit precise and lightning fast. Impressive.

  “Enjoying the show?” he asks through his fast breathing.

  “Oh, definitely,” I say. His next attack hits way off center and the nunchuck flies from his hand. His cheeks, already flushed, turn an even brighter shade of red and he doesn’t look at either of us as he goes to retrieve the nunchuck in the corner of the barn. I laugh under my breath but my brother shakes his head.

  “So!” Hawk says loudly and claps his hands once. “We’re supposed to train together. Orders from the top.”

  Charlie stalks back to the dummy, his eyes flashing between us. “What do you have in mind?”

  I give him a wicked grin. “Hand-to-hand combat.”

  He smirks as if amused. “Are you sure you can handle that?”

  “How about my fists ask your face?” I snarl and crack my knuckles. I’ve got a lot of steam to burn off and Charlie’s been bugging me since the moment we met. It’s about time we duked it out. Hawk steps off to the side so he’s an equal distance between me and Charlie, then sits on a bench and props his chin in his hand like he’s enjoying a show.

  Charlie and I meet in the center of the spacious barn floor to circle each other. There’s sweat on his forehead already from the workout we interrupted and his hair’s damp.

  “You’ll never even make contact, Mason,” he taunts. His green eyes are bright with challenge, and that ghost of a smile never leaves his face.

  “Them are fighting words, Nix!” Hawk says through cupped hands around his mouth.

  “And you’ll never know what hit you, Charlie.”

  That forces his face into a frown. “It’s Junior Agent—”

  “Jaeger. Yeah, I got that the first fifty times you said it. What’s with you and last names anyway? You call Agent Boyd by her first name, but not us.”

  Before he can respond, Hawk says from the sidelines, “I don’t think we’ve breached the friend barrier yet.”

  Charlie gives him a sharp look before returning his focus to me. “And you never will.”

  “Pessimist.”

  “Beserker.”

  Then he vanishes. The next second there’s a hard blow to my ribs from behind that knocks the air out of my lungs. I sidestep to gain distance but Charlie isn’t your average opponent. He’s already vanished again.

  “Cheater!” I shout. This time I get a kick to the backside of my leg and I go down on one knee. My hands span out in front of me to brace myself against the floor and I rear up to kick behind me with my other leg. Charlie’s not even there anymore. Piping Pan, he’s fast. Freakin’ teleporter. I glance to my brother but he’s wide-eyed and his mouth drops open as he watches the fight.

  I rise to my feet and spin about only to find a fist racing to meet the side of my face. I throw up my arm just in time to block but then Charlie’s gone again and I’m getting my legs swept out from under me. I fall backwards, my pride vanishing as fast as Charlie moves, and hit the ground hard. In an instant he’s on top of me with a knee digging into my sternum and his forearm across my throat.

  “I’m sorry, my face hasn’t heard a question from your fists yet,” he says with a smile.

  “Oh, you’re so dead,” I manage to grind out despite his weight squeezing the air out of my chest.

  He’s made the mistake of staying in one place for too long. Before he can zap away again I grab his shoulder and fling him to the side off me. Hawk cheers on the sidelines as I flip over like a cat, grab Charlie again before he can vanish, and raise a fist to smash in his stupid shiny, white teeth. His eyes flick up and he’s gone. Again.

  “What the—” I swivel around before he can reappear behind me but he’s not there. He’s not anywhere. Hawk shrugs a second before Charlie falls on top of me from above, slamming me face first into the ground. I blow out what little air there’s left in my chest to expel the hay from my mouth. I’m pretty sure I taste blood too.

  “Should’ve checked the rafters!” he says with a laugh that’s quickly cut off as I jab my elbow up behind me and feel it connect with something hard, hopefully his jaw.

  I fling my body to the side and effectively throw Charlie off in the process. I push up into a crouch and lunge as Charlie rolls to avoid me. Energy courses down my arm as I slam my fist into the ground a hairs breadth shy of Charlie’s shoulder. A shudder ripples through the ground and a cloud of dust and hay rises at the impact. A cloud so thick that I squint against it. A cloud that should momentarily blind Charlie as well. He said before he needs to see where he’s going. So what if he can’t see?

  Even though the dust forces my eyelids down to slits, I know where Charlie was last. I lurch forward and my open hand meets a body. I grab the fabric under my fingers and wrench it towards me. I pull the same move Charlie did earlier and pin him with a knee to his sternum, one forearm pressed against his throat, and my fist hovering over his face.

  He blinks a few times as the dust slowly settles and silence echoes in the barn, the only sound our ragged breathing. I wait for Charlie to vanish again but he stays where he is, hands held palm up in surrender. The boiling in my blood is washed away with something much more satisfying—victory.

  “What question would you like my fist to ask now, Jaeger?”

  “How about, can I breathe again?” he wheezes. “What obsession do you have with crappy fist jokes?”

  I ease my knee off his chest and rise to my feet. He sits up rather stunned, and we both look to the crater in the middle of the floor. Hawk stands off to the side with his jaw hanging open and eyes wide.

  “That was . . . well, wow,” Charlie says. “You weren’t aiming for my head just then, were you?”

  The crater is a good two feet down through solid, frozen earth, and there’s a ring of dirt spread so far it reaches the walls on all sides. I freeze and the only thing that races through my head is it’s a good thing Jefferson’s Green Monster isn’t in here. Jefferson would have killed me if I damaged his car—although he’s probably going to kill me for putting a crater in the middle of the barn.

  “Umm . . . oops?” I say and shrug half-heartedly.

  “Okay, how about we not spar?” Charlie says as he gets to his feet and brushes himself off. His black outfit is completely covered in brown dirt. “Because I very much like my life.”

  “I didn’t mean to—” A horrible thought strikes me. “Sweet unicorns, I really could have killed you.”

  “So you were aiming for me?” Charlie asks, indignant and a hand held to his chest.

  “Uh . . . near you.”

  He glowers. “Right.”

  I’ve never caused damage like this before. I didn’t even know I could. Holy crap. I clench and unclench my fist, studying my fingers in horror. I know I have strength. I didn’t realize this much.

  “I think you’ve always held back,” Hawk sa
ys and is suddenly standing beside me. “Always the shield, never the sword, right?”

  My eyes lock on his as he echoes back Jefferson’s words. He studies me as I study him. I can tell he’s wondering what I’m thinking but I don’t even know what to think. What does this mean for me? Does this show progress in the strength of my blood or is my magic attuning to something different than anti-werewolf?

  Hawk breaks the connection and claps Charlie on the shoulder with a big smile. “Congratulations! You ticked her off enough to want to turn your head into a crater! That’s quite the achievement!”

  “Hawk.” I give him a cold look and stalk away from them to the ring of dirt and debris pushed out to the sides of the barn. Well, isn’t this fantastic. I keep my back turned and hope they get the message that I don’t want to chat. At least Hawk gets my clue and starts chatting up Charlie instead.

  “You’ve got to show me how you do it,” Hawk says. “It’s impressive.”

  “Maybe not as impressive as other things,” Charlie says quietly and I can feel his eyes on my back.

  “So you have to have a direct line of sight to port where you want to go?” Hawk presses and they start talking shop about Charlie’s ability. I listen to their conversation as I study the hand I had punched into the earth. The skin across my knuckles is cracked and stings now that my adrenaline is burning off. Blood slowly wells beneath the abrasions. At least I’m not indestructible. I think I would have been more freaked out if I was.

  “Yeah, I have to physically be able to see where I’m going,” Charlie explains behind me. “Why do you want to know?”

  “I’m not going to spill your secrets to the monsters, don’t worry,” Hawk says. “I’m just curious. What does it feel like?”

  I scan along the wall until I find a shovel and scoop up a pile of loose dirt to dump into the crater I made.

  “It feels . . . I don’t know. Tight, I suppose. Like I’m squeezing in on myself and shooting out the other side of where I’m trying to go. I’ve heard it hurts like a harpy for the people I bring with me.”

  “You can port other people with you?” Hawk oozes with awe.

  I don’t chance a look at Charlie but I can tell he’s soaking it in. “Of course I can.”

  “Could you port me?” Of course Hawk would want to try it.

  “Look, Mason, I’m not kidding when I say it’ll hurt. Bad. Even worse for people with magic.”

  I keep dumping the loose dirt back into the center of the crater and try to smooth things out. It’s not going well. My hands are shaking a little.

  “What do I have to do?” Hawk asks. “Do we need to hold hands or something?”

  “You seriously want to do this?”

  Hawk nods fervently. “Yeah! Let’s do this. Come on.”

  I stop what I’m doing to watch. Charlie sighs and puts a hand on Hawk’s shoulder.

  “You sure?” he asks.

  Hawk smiles wide. “Stop stalling. Let’s do—”

  They vanish and reappear across the room to the loud cry of pain from Hawk followed by a string of curses. My heart leaps into my throat and I toss the shovel aside to rush for my brother. He drops to his knees and pants hard. Charlie stands over him nonchalantly with his arms crossed.

  “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he says.

  I slide to a stop in front of my brother and grab his shoulder. He’s breathing hard and grimacing but waves a hand at me to let me know he’s okay.

  “Holy crap,” he pants. “You really weren’t kidding.”

  “You okay, you big idiot?” I ask.

  He gets to his feet, rolls his shoulders, and gives me a goofy smile. “Well, that was something else.” He turns to Charlie who’s sporting a smirk. “You don’t feel that pain at all? Only the people you take with you?”

  “Yup. Well, people with magic anyway. It still hurts for normal people but nowhere near as much.”

  “Magic fights magic,” I say under my breath and move back to my shovel where I had dropped it.

  The boys chat some more and start to spar themselves. They seem to be getting along fine now that Hawk has passed Charlie’s pain test. Boys. I shake my head and keep cleaning up my mess. By the time I finish, my hands and legs are covered in dirt and I can’t get the floor to smooth out to my satisfaction. Guess it’ll be fun trying to explain to Jefferson why there’s a weird hole in the middle of his floor. Once I’m done and brush myself off, I don’t offer to spar with the others but go through the motions against one of the training dummies. It jostles under my blows but nothing snaps off, thank goodness.

  A tremor passes through me when Charlie says, “We should hit up your gun range.”

  “Yeah, sure thing,” Hawk says and claps him on the back, already becoming a fast friend by the looks of it. “I’ll show you where we keep our armory.”

  “Let’s be honest, Mason,” Charlie says and cocks his head, “It’s not much of an armory.”

  “Don’t need to hate, Jaeger.” Hawk’s use of Charlie’s last name sounds more like a nickname than a formality. I’m not sure if Charlie notices or not.

  I keep silent as the three of us trek up into the loft and pull guns off the weapon rack. The boys lead the way to the gun range but I hang back and focus on loading my magazine. I really don’t want to practice in front of either of them. I’ve done my best to make excuses and not let my brother see how my hands shake, and I don’t want to know what Charlie will say when he sees it.

  They reel out a target and Charlie takes to it first. The second his gun goes off the shakes are back in my hands and I can’t stop it. He’s precise and deadly, as expected. His shots are in a tight grouping in the center. He tosses a big grin at us, clearly impressed with himself.

  “Oh, I think that’s a challenge,” Hawk says. “Don’t you think, Phoenix? Let’s show him up.”

  I smile weakly but don’t say anything. I’m trying desperately to think of some excuse that will allow me to walk away without drawing their suspicion. Could I call myself to make my phone ring and then pretend it’s Jefferson?

  Hawk reels out another target and steps up to the marker in the snow to line up his sights. Each shot is flawless, even when he draws fast and drops to one knee. The bullseye is blown out in a clean circle. Just like everything else he does, Hawk has taken to shooting like a selkie to water. He’s a natural.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Charlie says and gapes at the target when it’s reeled in. “You’re an expert marksman. That’s dead on.”

  “You can teleport. Phoenix punches holes in the ground. I can snipe you from hundreds of yards away.” He shrugs like it’s no big deal.

  I can almost smell the testosterone in the air. Hawk reels out the next target and then steps aside for me. My feet don’t move. Sweat gathers on my forehead and my hands shake holding the gun. My breathing turns shallow and I can’t believe I’m freezing up. I’m terrified and embarrassed and they’re both looking at me like I’m losing my marbles.

  “Phoenix?” my brother prods. He takes a step towards me with a hand extended but I don’t want to be patronized.

  I can do this, I tell myself. It’s just target practice. It’s just a sheet of paper hanging on a wire. No one’s getting hurt here. I step up, rack the slide to put a bullet in the chamber, line up my sights, and flick off the safety. My hands shake so much I can’t pin the bullseye. There’s no way I’m going to hit the target. Practice is fine when I start out by myself and can empty a clip before the shakes really get to me. Having to wait for the other two to finish first hasn’t helped in the slightest.

  The boys don’t say anything as I fire shot after shot, all of them missing wide and taking chunks out of the fence. There’s a deadened silence when I’m done and my face is on fire. My brother puts a hand on my arm but I shrug him off and walk away from the source of my shame before they can say anything that will only scar me further. This stupid thing is all Dasc’s fault. Ever since I shot him, I’ve been broken
and can’t be fixed. I’ve been trying to wrap my head around it without any progress.

  I hurry into the barn and take the steps up to the loft three at a time. After slapping the gun onto the table, I pace across the open space between the computers and the cot. Hawk slips up the stairs and pauses at the landing. I can’t even look at him.

  “You hid it well enough,” he says quietly. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  I bite my lower lip and fight the burn behind my eyes. “Why do you think?”

  “I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking. You trust me, don’t you?”

  “Of course I trust you!” I stop and glare at him. “That’s not it.”

  He takes a step closer and keeps a hand on the railing, rapping it lightly with his fingers. “Okay, then what is it? Are you embarrassed? You have nothing to be embarrassed—”

  “Don’t. Don’t do that.” I hold up a hand then continue pacing. “I should be able to hit that target consistently. I used to. I can when I first start but then I—look, I don’t want pity. I just want to fix whatever this is. And I don’t want you to . . . to think that I regret what I did. I’d do it again in a heartbeat. You know that, right?”

  “Is that what you’re worried about?” He shakes his head. “You think I’ll hate you because you’re experiencing some form of PTSD for saving my life? For saving everyone? Piping Pan, Phoenix. If anything it makes me feel guilty. You were forced into that position and you did the only thing you could in shooting Dasc. There’s no shame in that.”

  I fight the raw emotion building in my throat and grimace. “Then why do my hands shake!” I yell. “Why can’t my stupid brain figure out that I did what I had to and get over it!”

  “We’ll figure it out.”

  “I’ll never be an agent, Hawk. Not like this. I—I need some air.”