The Bite of Winter (International Monster Slayers Book 2)

by Bethany Helwig

  I shrug past him, race out of the barn, and keep running. My feet carry me down the driveway but I stop halfway once I’m immersed in the pine trees. My chest is tight and something ugly rears its head inside me. I need to calm down and even out my breathing. I close my eyes and let the cold winter air wrap its icy fingers around me.

  Dasc’s voice echoes in my head. Phoenix Mason, the girl who tried to kill me.

  My brain buzzes in a whirl. I’m a killer. My fists can break the earth. What kind of power is that good for except destruction? There’s a reason such reckless strength is my power.

  I’m a killer.

  My phone buzzes in my pocket and I ignore it. There’s no one I want to talk to in the heat of this moment. The ringing stops for a moment only to start up again. Whoever is calling is insistent. I open my eyes and pull my phone out of my pocket.

  Minneapolis Division displays on the screen.

  Dread coiling in my gut, I pick up. “Hello?”

  “Mason.” There’s no mistaking that voice. It’s Draco. “We’re ready for you to try again.”

  Chapter 15

  I’m not able to sleep. It’s nothing new but I’m exhausted. I’ll be facing Dasc in the morning and that keeps me awake. Not to mention going over what happened yesterday afternoon over and over and over again in my head. Hawk and Charlie were giving me funny looks after I came back from running off. Hawk kept trying to be close to me as if to give me a hug or rousing speech but I didn’t want any of it. I don’t want to be coddled. I want to be fixed. Charlie, on the other hand, watched me like a scientist examining a rather peculiar specimen. I have no idea what to make of him.

  Rolling onto my side, I stare out the window and wait for my brain and body to finally shut down and give me what little rest I can before I have to face the monster of my nightmares again.

  Sometime during the night I fall unconscious but am jolted awake when I fire my mother’s gun into Dasc’s chest, just like every other night. This is really getting ridiculous. It’s been months now. Heck, the counselor in Underground even cleared me after the shooting. I kept going on about how relieved I was that Hawk was alive and the others were safe. That was good enough for them. Why can’t it be enough for me?

  I roll out of bed and dress as quietly as I can so as not to wake up Hawk. He’s lying face down into his pillow and I know there’s going to be more dried drool there in the morning. After I grab my phone and throw on my parka, I walk outside with no real purpose in mind. The moon’s out in full tonight and bathes the snow in light. It’s freezing and my nose goes numb as I stare up at the stars. I knew becoming an agent wouldn’t be easy but I thought it’d be easier.

  The sounds of a wintery Minnesota night surround me. There’s a general hush but then an owl hoots in the distance and a car’s engine growls far away. A deadly cold breeze brushes over the snow with a sound like feathers falling. When a creaking groan breaks the calm, I jump and my heart is instantly pounding in my chest. I spin about, hand already reaching for my mother’s gun tucked in the pocket of my parka, only to find Charlie standing in the open doorway of the barn. The light behind him turns him into a towering silhouette.

  “I’m sorry,” he says.

  I shrug as if it’s nothing and exhale sharply before turning away, my face lifted to the black velvet sky. The adrenaline in my veins is making me shaky. I don’t want him to see me like this again. The crunch of footsteps lets me know he’s coming up beside me but I still don’t look his way.

  “Can I talk to you?” he asks. His tone is so much gentler than it’s ever been. So much that I look to him in surprise. Surely, this is some kind of trick. I can hardly see his face and only his eyes glint in what little light can find him.

  “Please,” is all he has to say and I’m following him into the barn.

  We walk up to the loft and he gestures for me to take a seat on the small table beside the cot. Dreading what he’s going to say, I slump onto the table as he sits opposite me on the cot. His hair’s ruffled and he’s wearing a worn hoodie underneath his tailored peacoat. It’s the most relaxed and underdressed I’ve ever seen him. He rests his forearms on his thighs and clasps his hands in front of him.

  He chews slowly on his lower lip before he speaks. “About four years ago, I went out on my first mission with my uncle. We were tracking a pair of wendigos over in Wisconsin. They had been attacking and eating hikers. You know wendigos, yeah?”

  I nod mutely. They’re grotesque humanoid monsters that feast on the flesh of humans. They usually stick to the woods and hunt alone or in pairs.

  “Mind you, this was back when I was inexperienced and absorbed with the heroism of fighting monsters. I’m sure you know what that’s like.” He raises his eyebrows at me and I’m not sure if it’s supposed to be an insult. “Anyway, we tracked the wendigos to an abandoned cabin out in the woods along the northern border near Michigan. There was a heap of body parts inside.”

  He swallows and I clench my jaw. This story isn’t heading in a happy direction.

  “I knew we were up against something evil, something unnaturally wrong.” He shakes his head and his eyes are distant like he’s back in that cabin witnessing the macabre. “We waited for the wendigos to return but they were already there watching us from a distance. We fell right into their trap. I won’t bore you with the details but I ended up facing one of them on my own. I fought tooth and nail for my life. I managed to stab it with a silver blade right through the heart.

  “Movies and books make it seem so easy to get past. You kill something evil and you move on. But going through something like that leaves a mark.” He cocks his head to the side. “I couldn’t go anywhere without a blade after that.”

  I clench my hands together and avert my eyes. He tugs out a sharp eight-inch blade from inside his peacoat. He twirls it expertly in his hands. “Still can’t, actually. My point is, when you go through something like that everything changes but it’s nothing to be ashamed of. It happens. You’re the one that shot that werewolf leader, aren’t you?”

  “I didn’t actually kill him,” I mumble.

  “But it was still a life or death situation, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Then it’s the same thing. Mason, it takes time to sort something like this out. The rest of the world stays the same but you change, and other people just don’t get it. Their eyes haven’t been opened to the true darkness of reality.” He tucks the blade away and appraises me. “We hunt monsters, Mason. Killing stuff comes with the territory. You’ve got to accept what happened. You shot a monster. You saved a town. You did that. It’s done. It’s in the past. You can’t change it. All you can do is accept it.”

  It can’t be that simple. I’ve already accepted what I’d done. I know I can’t change it. In fact, I wouldn’t want to change it. If I hadn’t done what I did, Jefferson would be dead and Hawk enslaved. Why would I want to change that? I tilt my head as if looking at it all through a different angle.

  “I don’t want to change what happened.”

  He points at me. “Now that’s acceptance. But it’s only the first step.”

  “Then what’s the next?”

  “Retraining your brain to how you react to that event. You’ve got to dig deep into what that memory triggers. Why do your hands shake when you hold a gun?”

  “I don’t know!” I say angrily. “That’s the whole point!”

  He shakes his head, those green eyes of his boring into mine. “I don’t think that’s it. I think you’re afraid. The question is, what are you afraid of?”

  “I’m not afraid! I—” The words surface but I almost choke on them as I realize the truth. My courage wanes and I almost keep my mouth shut. Charlie’s still practically a stranger to me. These things are something I’m not ready to share. But Charlie might also be the only one who’ll understand. He’s already shared his story with me. The least I can do is reciprocate.

  “Every time I hear a gunshot I’m back a
t that night. I wanted to kill him. Sure, I hesitated, but there was a part of me that wanted him to suffer. He killed my parents.” I pause to wet my lips as Charlie waits patiently for me to continue. “He’s a murderer and in that moment I almost was to. I was a monster, just like him.”

  “I think that sounds like someone saving lives,” he says. “Look, when I showed up—in case you forgot, I did show up with the code black squads—your only concern was making sure your brother was okay. And everyone was so grateful you were there to save them. That doesn’t sound like a monster to me.”

  When I don’t say anything, he reaches into the pocket of my parka and pulls out my mother’s gun. He spins it around and offers the handle to me.

  “You drew this when you had to,” he says and takes my hand to press the grip of the gun into my palm. “It doesn’t fire unless you want it to. You are in control. It’s just a tool. If someone came after your brother tonight and using this was your only way to stop them from killing him, what would you do?”

  “I’d save my brother,” I whisper.

  “Darn right, you would.”

  I stare at the weapon in my hand. It doesn’t move to bite me, it sits cold and steady in my hand. I am in control. Charlie rests his hand on top of mine and waits for me to look at him again.

  “It takes time,” he says quietly. “But you’ve already been facing your fears every time you go out to that range. You’ve been fighting it all along. You’re a fighter. You’ll beat this, too. Now, you tell yourself that every time you draw that gun and sight in on a target, all right? You’re in control and that gun won’t fire until you want it to. We only do what we have to, Phoenix.”

  The warmth of his hand leaves mine and he draws back to give me space to breathe. Something happened in the last few minutes and the burden on my shoulders doesn’t feel so heavy anymore. Charlie beat this before. So can I. Someone else let me in that knows exactly how it feels to fear yourself and what you’re capable of.

  “Did you just call me Phoenix?” I ask.

  He puffs out his cheeks and slowly shakes his head. “Nope. Definitely not.”

  “Liar.”

  When I smile, he smiles back. He clears his throat and gestures to the stairs. “Well, you should, you know, sleep and stuff.”

  “Yeah, sleep. And you should sleep, too. I don’t even know why you’re still awake.” His eyes dart to the side and I spot a book lying open-faced on the cot beside him. “Or you could keep reading. Whichever sounds better.”

  He laughs under his breath. “Reading always sounds better.”

  “Well, then.” I tuck the gun back into my pocket and rise to my feet. At the top of the stairs I stop to say, “Thanks, Charlie.”

  His eyes widen a little like he’s surprised I would actually be thankful. “You’re welcome.”

  I return to the cabin holding back a smile and curl up in my bed with a heavy sigh that lets loose the tension in my shoulders.

  * * *

  Despite having gone through this once before, I can’t help but feel even more nervous than the first time. I have some small idea of what to expect but that doesn’t actually calm my nerves—in fact, it makes them worse. I keep telling myself that I’m in control, I’ll be the one asking the questions this time, Dasc’s got nothing on me. Then the other half of my brain starts telling me that he’s got all the cards—he knows where the missing people are, he’s the one harboring all the secrets about the stupid war he mentioned, and he knows more about everything than I do. I emptied a full clip of wolfsbane bullets into his chest and he still hasn’t gone down. Nothing I do can stop him.

  “Phoenix, you’ve got to relax,” Jefferson reminds me for the umpteenth time. He glances at me from the driver’s seat with a scowl. “Working yourself up isn’t going to help anything.”

  “How am I not supposed to get worked up?” I shoot back. “And I still don’t understand why you think it’s a good idea for us to get there early so we can sit around and I can work myself up more.”

  He shifts his weight around in his seat before settling. “I just think it’s a good idea.”

  “Okay . . .”

  We sit in silence for the rest of the ride until we pull up to the cement bunker containing the secret entrance to Underground. Together we check in with the topside guards then stand side by side on one of the big black lifts by ourselves. It feels so odd coming here with Jefferson. It’s the past and present crashing together. I wring my hands over and over again, gnaw on my lower lip, and bounce on the balls of my feet. Once we reach the bottom and move past Bernie the guard, I’m about to ask Jefferson what his brilliant plan is. The words never make it out of my mouth because when we pass through the doors into Underground, a familiar face is waiting with a brilliant smile.

  “Oh, my sweet Phoenix!” Celina the faun, my surrogate mother, rushes forward and wraps me in a hug. I’m so shocked it takes me a moment to hug her back. She’s in a bright green silk drape with flowers stitched in intricate designs across the fabric. The smell of her, of cool grass and roses, makes me think of home and comfort. I didn’t realize I missed her this much until right now and it hits me hard in the chest.

  “It’s so good to see you,” I say and she draws back to look me over like I imagine a concerned mother would.

  “I swear you’ve grown over the months since I last saw you,” she says. She takes my face in both hands and her deer-like ears twitch back and forth. “Your eyes have aged.”

  “Living with this old grouch will do that to a person,” I say and glance at Jefferson who’s hanging off to the side. His smirk vanishes and he glowers at me.

  Celina laughs and the sound is light and merry. Pixies, I needed this reprieve. She slips her arm through mine and starts to walk me into the center of the market. Jefferson waves us on.

  “We’ve got time,” he says. “I’ll catch up to you later.”

  The market comes alive as the shopkeepers open their doors, food begins to cook, and goods for sale are set out in bins for the few customers wandering in. We take our time walking arm and arm down the long row. Each building is familiar, each marble column, cement wall, and red tiled roof. The gargoyles sit still as stone on the rooftops but one or two shuffle their wings when we walk past below. No matter how long I’ve been away, this will always be home to me.

  “Dear, you look like you haven’t slept in ages,” Celina coos. “You must tell me everything. Not a detail left to the void!”

  I haven’t wanted to talk in a while but here, wrapped in the aroma of Old Man Two’s soup and under the dazzling lights of the sprites dancing through the air in the upper rafters, I feel a coil unwrapping around my chest. No prompting is necessary for the story of the past three months to spill out. Celina guides us to a table at the centaur’s restaurant and we sit and chat for what feels like hours. The market starts to thrive around us and customers come and go. I’m so engrossed in letting it all out that it takes me an hour to realize Jefferson is sitting at a table on the opposite side of the open restaurant keeping an eye on us.

  Celina follows my gaze then gives me a warm smile. “I’m glad you two finally met.”

  “What? Do you—do you know Jefferson?”

  She nods and sips at her soup. “We’re very old acquaintances. Back when he was a young agent working in the field, he saved my life. I owed him a debt, and he collected about . . . well, fourteen years ago, give or take.”

  I blink. “What did you say?”

  Her eyes sparkle and she reaches across the table to lay a hand on mine. “Dear one, Jefferson was the one who asked me to look after you and your brother when you first came here.”

  Heat flushes my face and I can’t help but lock onto Jefferson at his solitary table. He glances over now and then trying to act casual.

  “He did?” I manage to say.

  “Oh, yes. He felt terrible, oh so terrible, about what happened. He never said it but I could see the shadow of guilt in his eyes. Shortly after D
raco left the pair of you in the care of IMS agents, Jefferson came down himself and asked me to watch over you.” She takes my hand with both of hers. “He wanted to make sure you both had someone. He didn’t want you to be alone.”

  I swallow and fight back something bubbling in my chest. It isn’t ugly or horrible—it’s beautiful and warm and yet so, so heavy.

  “He’s been looking out for us all this time,” I murmur. “I didn’t know.”

  “He didn’t want you to, dear,” Celina says. “I think the guilt he carries forced him to step back from the pair of you.”

  Jefferson had mentioned as much before, back when Hawk and I learned the truth of what happened to our parents. He didn’t want to face the children he felt he had failed. The truth is he never really failed us at all.

  “Don’t tell him I said anything,” Celina continues in her bubbly voice. “I promised never to tell.”

  “Cross my heart, knock my hooves, paint my antlers, the whole schebang,” I say.

  She starts to tell me how things have been in Underground while I’ve been away and it takes effort to focus on the conversation. Not much has changed but she has spotted Draco a few times. Apparently I’m not the only one that finds him intimidating. Celina’s sharp mind also noticed there are fewer werewolves in the city. I know Director Knox is the cause but I can’t say anything. It’s need to know only when it comes to Dasc. She’s in the middle of telling me rumors she’s heard of leviathans and other ancient monsters being spotted when Jefferson comes over and knocks twice on our tabletop.

  “Time to go, Phoenix,” he announces. “Good to see you again, Celina.”

  “Likewise.”

  We say our goodbyes and I follow Jefferson through the market. I steal glances at him as we walk to the penitent cells. A part of me suspects he knows Celina just confessed what he did for me and my brother. He always seems to know. I’m dying to say something even though I told Celina I wouldn’t. I’ll have to tell Hawk about it once I return to Moose Lake. Maybe we could do something for Jefferson to show our appreciation. Celina had been a gift to us and one we couldn’t have lived without. We owe him.