Winter (Mist Riders Book 2)

by Stella Fitzsimons

  “Winter? Yeah, I’m sure,” I said. “Was that even a question?”

  “So be it,” he said, then turned and walked away.

  I dashed after him, grabbing his arm before he went out the front door.

  “What are you doing?” I said.

  “Please, make my excuses me to the lovely hostesses. I’m afraid I’ve exhausted every reserve I had stored for small talk the last few centuries.”

  “You’re joking?”

  “I wish I was,” he said. “When basics chitter chatter it’s so grating, like stone scraping across hide.”

  “It’s New Year’s Eve,” I said and immediately regretted it.

  Winter furrowed his brow. “You want me to stay?”

  With dread, I realized that part of me did want him to stay. I wanted him to be next to me when the year changed, because left to my own devices, I’d probably get drunk on wine which always led to wishy washy confessions with Lily, who would then pepper me with a million questions.

  “I’ll stay if you want me to.”

  His voice was breathy and soft. The space between us felt too small and a little asphyxiating. I stared into his eyes. They were hungry, savage eyes—you couldn’t hide from them no matter how you tried. Could there possibly be a well of loneliness deep inside him? Inside all Immortals?

  Lucia’s words rang inside my skull. Possessive, territorial… add lethal and manipulative to the mix and we’d be all set, Lucia.

  I reconsidered. “No, a new year, even calendars themselves, must be meaningless to your kind. I won’t keep you. I’d rather you apply your time to finding Emmet.”

  He put his hands in his pockets and nodded. “We’ll celebrate the turn of the century then, when all these people have moved on.”

  As he turned to go, I felt an odd pang in my stomach.

  “Jonas, wait,” I said. “I appreciate your help. I know you don’t have to.”

  He leaned in, his lips inches from mine. “As always. I will be with you in the shadows until you’ve come into your own.”

  Winter was gone before my heart could take its next beat. A massive sigh escaped my lungs. Had I been holding my breath?

  When I turned to go back to the party, I found the eccentric woman standing rigidly in the living room doorway. She was staring at me.

  The 3D glasses were gone, the pink umbrella was closed and serving as a peculiar walking stick. She looked older now. Her small eyes swam inside puffy dark circles. Her gray tangled hair and thin, lifeless lips coupled with her finite wrinkles made her face appear chiseled in stone.

  She started speaking Spanish, or something like it—both her strange accent and the frantic speed in which she spoke made it hard to understand.

  “Lo siento!” I said. “I don’t speak Spanish. No hablo español.”

  She didn’t seem to care. What she was saying meant far more to her than anything I had to say. She kept at it, talking wildly, gesticulating.

  Then she slowed down and articulated two words carefully. The look in her eyes sent chills right through me. Then she spoke again, slower.

  “Este es el apocalipsis del infierno,” she said.

  This is the apocalypse from hell.

  Huh. I think I’ll have that drink now.

  CHAPTER 11

  ____________________________________

  “Yugoslavia is about to capitulate!” His gaming laptop bounced in Faion’s lap as he clapped excitedly.

  I stepped closer to get a better look at the strange map on the screen. There were names of countries no longer existing and some that I never knew existed like Manchukuo, the Soviet Union and the Guangxi Clique, whatever that meant.

  “What game is that?” I said.

  “You never heard of this game? Sad. It’s only the best strategy game ever made. It’s called Hearts of Iron IV. You control a country in World War II. Dude, you manage military, politics, supply lines, everything. It’s dope.”

  “How can you just switch gears like that?” I said, wishing I could forget all the real world doom my monkey brain kept obsessing over.

  “Less talking,” he said as he went back to his game.

  This was not how I wanted to spend New Year’s Day, being shushed.

  Lily convinced me to go to the Altitude Sky Lounge last night. Even after ringing in the new year, the bar remained packed. It was almost worth the cramped quarters to catch its breathtaking roof top view.

  We emptied our tequila shots into Corona beer bottles. I remembered having at least three. I should have had a hellish hangover this morning and, honestly, I’d prefer that to constantly mulling over every detail about Emmet’s disappearance, but no. I didn’t even get tipsy, nothing, zero, zilch.

  I’d have to ask Winter about that. Alcohol used to hit me hard. Was immortality something I had grown into? Did it mean I’d never have the luxury of drowning my sorrows in a few nice shots of Tequila?

  Lily, however, got so wrecked she sent away every cute guy who asked to sit with us. She sang the national anthem and God Save the Queen, both out of tune, all the way home. At some point, she belched so loud, the Uber drive pulled over fearing she would throw up in his car. She asked me to take her to her apartment instead of Lucia’s house where her roommates were having their own “after bar” party. I did, but I now realized it was a horrendous idea.

  I rested my arm on the back of the velvety cream couch. It was hard to believe I had bled out on this couch not long ago when Winter slashed into me with a dagger to prove I couldn’t be killed. Good times. But now, if not for Faion crouched over his laptop, you’d think the couch had just come out of its plastic wrap.

  In fact, the whole apartment was showroom quality. Nothing betrayed that a human had ever lived in the pristine condo. Then again, Winter was far from human.

  He had keyed his elaborate wards to Faion and me so they would tolerate our presence. That meant we could come and go as we pleased without disturbing them. They still guarded Winter’s office for only him. If we so much as dared to walk within five feet of the office door, the wards shadowed our every move, unsure of our intentions, white and red lines glowing around the doorframe like laser beams, ready to strike.

  I had grown weary of this cat and mouse game. I had provoked the kidnappers by shuttering their blood spell and blowing up their wards, yet they hadn’t shown their faces.

  There had not been a word from Winter since he left Lucia’s party. I felt like a caged wild cat in a zoo. It drove me batty that I had spent two days locked away in a warded Immortal enclave while Emmet’s fate hung in the balance. We should be out there looking for him, turning over every last stone until we unearthed these soul swallowers and their dark lord.

  If I didn’t do something soon, I’d lose my mind.

  I waited until Faion was wholly absorbed by an invasion in his World War II game before I grabbed my purse and jacket. I could have walked right out the front door and he would have never raised his head.

  Dudes and their video games.

  “Hey, Imperial conqueror,” I said, waving a hand under his eyes. “I’m going to bounce.”

  “Hold on,” he said, pausing the game. “Where you going? The old dude said to wait.”

  “Yeah, I don’t care. Sorry not sorry. I’m done sitting on my hands.”

  “Luna, you’ll just piss him off. I mean, we have no leads. Nada. What could we possibly accomplish on our own?”

  I opened my mouth and then clamped it shut again.

  The wards hummed and hissed. My body tingled from head to toe as if the air had been suddenly electrified.

  “You feel that?” I asked Faion.

  He set his laptop on the coffee table and nodded.

  Tendrils of smoke oozed inside from the edges of the doorframe. The wards had been compromised. The door shuddered. The handle swayed. Whoever was outside was not Winter. His wards would have no visible reaction to him. He’d just walk through like a normal tenant.

  “Faion, get down,”
I shouted.

  I readied an energy bolt in my right hand, raw power swelling in my core, and shot it at the door as soon as it opened.

  Kirsi raised her sword, driving it straight into the bolt of energy and deflecting it with a mighty jolt. The bolt zoomed straight back at me. Out of pure instinct, I blocked it with another energy wave.

  I never even had a chance to think.

  The bolt collided with the energy wave, sparking combustible magic in the air which burst and then swirled its way to the floor like glittering confetti.

  All three of us watched the confetti vanish.

  “That could have been us,” Kirsi said. “Way too close for comfort.”

  Once upon a time, Kirsi had been a Valkyrie—a warrior goddess of the Nordic pantheon who shepherded souls through battle or into the afterlife. Now she was a very old Immortal who had helped me recover after the battle of the metamorphic night when I threw myself between Chaos and Winter.

  “I see why swords can come in handy,” I quipped, although still rattled that if not for my instinct, I would have been scorched and skewered.

  Kirsi laughed. Beauty wasn’t what she was about, but few would ever turn away from her if she walked past. She had big, almond-shaped brown eyes and luscious, auburn curls that were now pulled back into a ponytail. Her face radiated a laid-back ease but, at the same time, a takes-no-shit-from-nobody attitude. Her toned legs were wrapped tightly in black leather pants and her arms in a fashion fitted biker jacket. The word for her was striking.

  Faion gulped as if he’d forgotten what team he played on.

  Kirsi raised an eyebrow. “That’s something I would pay to see. A lunar witch wielding a sword.”

  Faion snorted. I ignored them both. They wouldn’t be laughing if I found that magic mist horse, would they?

  “And this must be the diviner.” Kirsi shared a smile with Faion. “Tell me, insightful one, can you see into my future?”

  “No, but with my own eyes I can see the present and in the here and now we done pissed off a witch and she throws fireballs when she ornery.”

  Kirsi chuckled. “Magistrate Winter warned me of her temper.” She extended a hand to Faion. “They call me Kirsi, Immortal warrior and guard of the Seventh Council Seal.”

  “I’m Faion,” he said, taking her hand. “Love the Bougie title. Don’t know what it means but it’s got swag.”

  “Why thank you,” Kirsi said. “It’s a cool gig.”

  Is it me or was that BFFs at first sight?

  “Winter’s not here,” I told Kirsi. “Been gone since last night. We have no clue when he’s expected to return.”

  “It was Winter who sent me,” she said. “He wanted me to deliver this.”

  She handed me a manila envelope. There was no writing on the outside and inside I found a printed google map and two notes. The first note was just an address. The second was a short message.

  “The database search spat out a clue. Meet me at 8:00 am local time at the marked location on the map. On foot once you reach La Mejilla Street. Leave the diviner at home. Approach the building from the east.”

  The map was of Tijuana, Mexico. Winter wanted to meet in an eastside neighborhood, outside of a shop called Palacio de Taxidermia.

  A taxidermist? He didn’t think someone had embalmed Emmet, did he? Sure, he often turned into a gigantic wolf, but c’mon!

  “He wants to meet in Mexico,” I said. “Me only. It doesn’t say why.”

  “He’s there already, keeping…” Kirsi stopped in mid-sentence. “Look, you should trust him. If he says you have to meet him, you should go.”

  “Everyone has to jump when he snaps his fingers. I know the drill.”

  Alone again in Mexico with Winter? The last time we poked around down there I got poked, literally, by a morph dagger in the heart. And that was only the second biggest shock to my system that night. The other shock cut much deeper and was not something from which I could ever recover, the soul crushing discovery of what I actually am.

  I eyed the second note. It was a local San Diego address. I knew the street, an upper-class neighborhood near the east end of campus.

  “What’s this?” I said.

  Kirsi eyed the note in my hand. “Ken Groshek is staying there.”

  “So, he just spilled all my secrets to you, didn’t he?”

  Those were my secrets. They weren’t his to share.

  Kirsi weighed the proper response. “I owe Winter a great deal. He knows I would never betray him. And I would never betray you, Luna.”

  Apparently, everybody owed Winter something. Did he help people? Yes. Would he call in those favors? Hell yes. Typical egomaniacal brilliance.

  Kirsi smiled tenderly. It was hard to believe she was an Immortal. “Luna, I consider you a friend. I nursed you because I wanted that job, not because I was asked. I love strong women. You stand your ground. You don’t back down and you are driven by your heart.”

  “Couldn’t he send an email and a few attachments?” I insisted. “Perhaps a quick phone call?”

  I saw a flickering hesitation in her eyes. “Düsternis has imposed a moratorium on digital communications effective today. Winter abides by that edict and wishes to remain inconspicuous.”

  “Even Immortals get hacked,” Faion said. “It’s them Samoli pirates, they off the boats now and at the keyboard. I’m the coder now.”

  We both just stared at Faion. Without a word we turned from him and I walked Kirsi to the door. The wards hummed, then turned red before darting away to let Kirsi out. Apparently, they were not completely sure about her.

  Once outside, Kirsi turned back. “He has your back, Luna. Count on that.”

  I counted on myself. I learned that the hard way. Instead, I would concentrate on the fact that Winter had uncovered a clue. I’d put my energies there.

  Back inside, I found Faion standing with crossed arms. “I know what you’re thinking,” he said, “because I’m thinking the same thing.”

  “What am I thinking?”

  “That something is off. It’s all too convenient.”

  I agreed so far. “And?”

  Faion nodded. “You know, my little moon baby. You’re thinking Mr. Winter Wonderland might have orchestrated the whole damn thing.”

  “No, I’m not thinking that,” I said. “For what possible purpose?”

  “Oh, shit,” Faion said, suddenly concerned. “That means you blind and if you blind to all this maybe you want all this. He’s all about you and maybe you about him. May the world survive because you two some strange bedfellows.”

  Suddenly I felt tired. I closed my eyes and took a few deep breaths. “Your blathering nonsense is exhausting me.”

  “Okay, but don’t nobody say Faion Trice didn’t warn you.”

  CHAPTER 12

  ____________________________________

  The terrain was rough and dry. Huge piles of dirt ran along the sides of the gravel road—abandoned tenements loomed above my head like skeletal remains of giant prehistoric animals.

  The taxi driver dropped me at the end of La Calle Mejilla and I walked the rest of the way. The Palacio de Taxidermia should show up at any moment, assuming I wasn’t completely lost.

  Orientation skills were never my strongest suit. I took the map out of my backpack to study it one more time. At night, I had the benefit of the moon’s guidance, but during daytime, I had to think twice to tell east from west.

  I wished Winter’s message had included more details. As it were, I didn’t even know how long I was supposed to stay in Tijuana or what I should have packed. The only things I brought along were dry snacks, a book, a sweater and the note I managed to obtain from Ken Groshek.

  Early in the morning, I took a detour heading to the Mexican border. The address Winter had provided for Mr. Groshek led me to a carriage style home fronted by a small yard, white rose bushes and a large stone fountain.

  The careful hope that I saw on his face when he opened the door made
my stomach plunge. I didn’t want to play with his emotions so excluded mention of any possible clues in Mexico.

  He was more than willing to relinquish the note that had been nailed to Emmet’s door. I promised to contact him as soon as I had any news at all.

  Barely more than two hours later, I was walking the deserted streets at the east edge of Tijuana. I turned onto a narrow dirt path lined with dense foliage that eventually opened onto a natural cul-de-sac.

  The Palacio stood amidst discarded debris and haggard trees topped by ominous, decaying branches.

  I assessed the area for signs of Winter. A gray rat the size of a rabbit shot out from behind a tree and dashed across the path. Somewhere to the right, two ravens fluttered away croaking.

  Picking my way down the path to the Palacio de Taxidermia, I kept my gait measured and quiet. The Palacio was a two-story, white stucco building fronted by three arches that framed a narrow patio and supported a balcony. Chunks of stucco had peeled off, revealing old, wood-brown bricks. A corner of the roof had been torn and blown away in some windstorm of the past.

  A metallic, clicking sound snapped behind me. I heaved forward when the shot rang out and landed hard on all fours. Excruciating pain erupted in my left knee which bore the brunt of the fall.

  I crawled the few feet to the Palacio and dove inside the middle arch, throwing a sizzling energy shield around me. A second shot fired, hitting the back of my leg. Searing pain ripped through my calf. I screamed.

  My head reeled with confusion. Bullets shouldn’t be able to penetrate my energy shield. Not that I had tested the theory before, but shields were supposed to withstand any attacks by handheld basic weapons.

  I caught a glimpse of a hooded figure perched in an old tree. I slithered my way behind the arch column. A third shot sliced the air and hit my other calf, this one coming from a different direction.

  Clenching my teeth, I drew in more elemental power to bolster my shield.

  An onslaught of bullets exploded in a flash of flickering sparks, thudding into the walls behind me, shredding the arch pillars.

  I ducked, covering my head with my arms, not trusting my shield. My legs had begun to heal but I was in no hurry to feel more burning pain.