Winter (Mist Riders Book 2)

by Stella Fitzsimons

  “Immortals watch TV?” I asked Winter.

  The question surprised him. “Of course, we do. It’s the Golden Age.”

  CHAPTER 20

  ____________________________________

  We climbed up a snow-covered bluff all the way to the top. The Noatak River stretched down the other side, its surface a glossy green in the dim twilight.

  It wasn’t anywhere near as cold as when the ley line dumped us in the middle of nowhere, but still far colder than anything I had ever experienced, and that included Whitehorse, Yukon.

  I wore three thermal shirts, wool leggings, two sweaters, ski pants, two pairs of gloves, three pairs of socks and a jacket so puffy I must have looked like a fat astronaut.

  Walking in that gear wasn’t easy. I wobbled awkwardly with each step (again, like a fat astronaut), but at least I didn’t freeze to the bone.

  We reached the river, then followed it for a while in silence.

  Thin layers of ice floated down the winding river, glistening.

  “You showed great command of the ley line in the cave,” Winter said. “I wasn’t in the mood at the time to comment.”

  “Thanks, I guess,” I said. “I was having a mood myself.”

  “Well, I take pride in your progress,” he added.

  “Like fatherly pride?” I said and immediately regretted it. Why the hell did I say that? It’d be better to keep my mouth shut from now on.

  Winter frowned. “Not so much fatherly. I have no experience with that kind of emotional construct.”

  “In what way then?” I insisted.

  It took him a while to answer. “In my way, call it a friend’s way.”

  I chuckled. “Really? That’s what we are? Friends?”

  “Let’s call it a mentor’s pride then,” he said.

  I grabbed his hand. “Winter,” I said. “Over there.”

  A pair of boots protruded from behind a snow-covered boulder.

  Winter scanned the entire area before moving slowly toward the boulder. I followed, readying my energy. Winter tensed and crouched as he reached the rock and then… relaxed.

  Three bodies lay behind the boulder, their limbs intertwined. They wore brass armor with intricate patterns—their sleeves and pant legs were green.

  Winter turned them over on their backs one by one. The skin on their hands was reptilian and their faces a pale olive green—large, protruding lower jaw and aquiline noses but no ear lobes.

  Troglodytes.

  The front of their necks had been cut open and their throats torn out. Long serrated gashes ran from their chests down to their lower abdomens.

  They were completely emptied out. All vital organs had been removed.

  “Ritual killings,” Winter said, pensively.

  An ugly memory resurfaced. “Just like at the Palacio de Taxidermia.”

  A loud splash echoed from the river. We turned around. Rippling circles grew larger and larger on the water’s surface.

  Winter shed his clothes quickly. “I’ll see what that was about.”

  “You’ll freeze to death,” I protested.

  He stood in his boxer briefs, grinning. “I’m confident neither is possible.”

  “You don’t know what’s in there, Jonas.”

  “Whatever’s in there,” he said as he walked, “it can’t be worse than me.”

  I grabbed his hand before he could run to the river.

  “I’ll be fine,” he said. “It’s nice to know you worry about me.”

  “I’m worried about myself,” I corrected him. “I’d be lost out here without you. You know, if you were kidnapped, or if you got hypothermia. You already have goose pimples.”

  I tried to warm him by wrapping my arms around him, but it was impossible inside my hundred layers of clothing.

  “You’d be lost without me?” he said as he aided my attempt to warm him by wrapping me up in his long arms and pulling me close. “How about a goodbye kiss?” he said. “In case I don’t make it back.”

  I stared up into his eyes, and the world started spinning. Suddenly, his lips touched mine and I panicked, but then I kissed him back. It was me who escalated it from a peck to my tongue inserting into his mouth searching for his tongue… finding his tongue… swirling playfully around his tongue.

  Oh my god, what am I doing?

  He had kissed me once before, but his fervor still knocked my socks off. The man tasted so good, like an explosion of nectar and honey and watermelon juice. Maybe it had something to do with his immortality, or maybe it was all him, Winter, Jonas Sandell, the shadow I couldn’t escape.

  I didn’t know how such a soft kiss could feel so savage. We pretended our lives were in imminent danger, and maybe they were, but it was all a playful excuse. This was a one-time, no, a two-time thing, nothing more.

  I’ll keep telling myself that.

  He pulled away first. I wobbled on my feet like a drunk duck. He caught me before I fell to my butt, then ran to the river and dove into the icy water.

  I watched as his head disappeared under the water, his taste still on my lips. Nothing compared to his kisses—absolutely nothing.

  I folded his clothes, mechanically, the whole time watching the water like a hawk. Seconds went by, then minutes that felt like a little eternity.

  Winter resurfaced, carrying a black trash bag. His carved pecs and ripped abdomen glistened like gold in the twilight. I threw a blanket around him.

  He dropped the bag down and used the blanket to dry himself. He crouched to untie the bag. A pile of bloody innards spilled out, turning the pristine snow suddenly scarlet. I yelped and backed away.

  “I’m going to throw up,” I said.

  He shook water drops off his hair and looked around, sniffing the air.

  “Who did this?” I said. “Why?”

  He started to get dressed. “Don’t know. My concern is that these creatures were here at all.”

  “My concern is whoever did this to them.”

  “I don’t like the way the river smells,” he said. “We have to be quick.”

  I followed him along the river’s edge, patiently waiting for him to talk.

  “I don’t know what we’ll find at the vault,” he said. “Be ready. You’ll need to summon all available energy around you, be it from the sky or the earth or from your core. Stay close. Do not hold back. Do not show mercy. I assure you they have no mercy for you. Growing new organs is not a good time.”

  I preferred listening until that last bit. “Wait, you mean I could survive that kind of slaughter?”

  “Yes, but you’d wish you had died. It can take days to regrow a liver when there’s not a shred of one left. In the meantime, you’ll live like you’re in the final stages of cirrhosis.”

  I’m converted. No mercy.

  We walked quietly for the better part of an hour until we came to a log cabin among tall, leafless trees. I felt the dense energy of Winter’s shield for the first time. He must have reinforced it.

  He studied me from head to toe. “You can’t fight like that,” he said. “We’ll hide a few layers of that here.”

  I took off layer after layer. I stopped when I was down to leggings and a thermal shirt. I bundled the rest inside the jacket. Winter dug a hole on the side of the cabin and placed the bundle inside, covering it with snow.

  We stood outside the cabin’s door. Winter zapped the door handle with a single finger. The lock clicked and the door swung open. The interior was bare—nothing but a table with a chair and a trapdoor on the floor.

  Winter lifted the trapdoor. We stepped carefully down the wooden steps into darkness. A portal shimmered to life at the bottom of the stairs. Without a word, Winter took my hand and we stepped through the portal.

  We started to fall through a cold dark space, completely protected by Winter’s energy shield. I clutched onto his hand to stay orientated.

  A dim light met us as our feet landed softly in a coiling passageway walled in by red bricks. I thrust
a beam of light ahead as we prepared to journey into the unknown. My heart sunk as around curve after curve the passageway never seemed to end.

  Winter brought his index finger to his lips. I nodded and followed him. We came to another bend. As we rounded the bend, a pack of at least twenty troglodytes came running at us armed with swords and spears.

  White energy glowed at my fingertips. I raised my hands and—

  “Halt!” A resounding male voice filled the space.

  The troglodytes came to a sudden stop, as if stunned by Tasers.

  They stood at attention ten feet from us. Every last troglodyte focused their eyes on me, slit pupils gleaming yellow, unblinking. In a moment, they lowered their weapons and, as one, snorted hard out of their noses.

  At the back of the group, I caught a glimpse of the tall troglodyte who had barked out the order. He was armored in red with a golden helmet. He peered into my eyes, lifted his hand, gestured, then the troglodytes spun about and marched off at double time, then started running.

  I looked to Winter who just shook his head.

  We pressed forward. A few minutes later a larger group of guards rounded a hundred feet away. They marched in formation, wearing helmets with horns and long chainmail coats. They were short and bulky, carrying axes and cleavers. They looked like a dwarf army without the beards. Their auras shone orange, drenched with magic.

  What in the world were they?

  Confusion swept their faces when they spotted us. They slowed to consider what threat we posed. One among the front row reached for something under his armor.

  By instinct, I hurled an energy ball that struck his hand and knocked him back into the second row of guards.

  They were unfazed and began marching again as one, raising their axes that were sparking with orange energy.

  Their aggression magic bit at my skin like tiny sharp needles. Drops of blood rolled down my cheeks and hands.

  These were battle powers I thought only existed in myths.

  As the dwarf legion approached, I blasted them. My blasts crashed into a barrier before hitting them. The pack had put up an energy shield.

  I backed away, desperate to locate the source of the shield. There he was, without an axe, at the left of the pack.

  Think again, if you’re planning to beat me at my game!

  Channeling every available resource, I assaulted their shield with heavy waves of energy, testing its limits. The shield howled as magic blew through its essence, draining its potency.

  The wielder strained to keep his shield in place. My blasts expanded wider and wider and struck the shield from every possible angle.

  Wait, am I in this alone?

  No. Winter was in fact here, yet the bastard leaned back against the tunnel wall, a casual smile painted on his mug.

  “Anytime you’re ready to help…”

  “No need,” he said. “You got this.”

  Are you fucking serious right now?

  The pack began to move as one, taking long strides. Magic jumped from their hands onto their weapons, studding them with long spikes.

  Thirty feet away.

  The shield around the pack hissed and cracked.

  Winter did provide a little extra anger. I charged.

  Twenty feet.

  The dwarves began howling, breaking formation.

  Ten feet.

  By the time I reached them, the shield crack had widened. I leapt right through it. I hit the ground and skidded, until I crashed into thick legs.

  I could hear my own bones crunching. As I got up in pain, an axe swung past my head. I ducked just in time, whipped around and sliced at chainmail with a whip of energy. The dwarf fell, a bloody gash across his chest.

  The murderous dwarves came one and all. I blasted left and right, but it was hopeless. There were too many. If I somehow survived, my last kill would be Winter, the smug prick. That became my main motivation. To survive just so I can slice him to pieces.

  I was bludgeoned from behind, the impact knocking me forward. My destroyed shoulder had been burned clean through the shoulder blade.

  Tears blurred my vision. My hand went numb.

  I turned back to find a spiky axe looming above my head, ready to crush my skull. I felt magic dripping from the axe. I quickly cloaked it in my own magic a heartbeat before it split my skull.

  When the two magic waves collided, they exploded.

  The shockwave knocked everyone back. My head struck the floor. The walls closed in as my vision drown in blood and tears. I struggled to keep breathing. My wounds were everywhere.

  Winter’s voice found me as if from within a dream. “Lethal force, witch.”

  Yeah, I knew it would come to that. He didn’t help because he wanted me to do the killing.

  Before I had decided, a colossal wave of power surged within. It was coming at me from everywhere at once, the earth’s underbelly, the sky above, the bricks and the trees and the stars and my own blood.

  The dwarves pounded on me, slicing my flesh. I realized I had been screaming the whole time. Now I put all my rage into my screams, piercing my own eardrums and killing everything, except Winter.

  I felt a jolt of dark euphoria—ending all those life forces had made me lust for more energy, more power. I raised all the dwarf corpses high above me. Covered in blood, my own and theirs, I stared at my handywork. For the first time, I felt like something else, something beyond Sophie, beyond Luna, beyond all I had known or imagined, beyond even good and evil.

  I let go. The bodies smacked against the ground, piling up in front of me.

  Is this what I am now? Death?

  Winter wrapped an arm around my shoulders. I felt a new kind of cold, a cold his warmth could never chase away. I felt alone, I felt the absence of an eventual end. I felt unreachable. I felt… immortal.

  I buried my face in Winter’s neck and breathed in his fresh scent. He stroked my hair and held me tight. My wounds were mending. I would always heal while others died.

  “Okay,” I said, collecting myself. “We have to find Emmet.”

  Winter helped me to my feet. “None of these creatures had any business being here,” he said. “These are strange times. They are not the usual guards.”

  “Why did the troglodytes run?”

  Winter hesitated. “They knew they couldn’t fight you.”

  The troglodytes had known me before I knew me. Perhaps they were saving me for the dark lord of the soul swallowers himself.

  Winter led me to a winding staircase. At the bottom, we found a large rotunda flooded with blinding light. Rows of doors lined the walls.

  We walked to massive wooden double doors. A metal plaque read:

  Eternal Archives and Registry of the Forbidden Vortex

  “Emmet,” I said, my heart booming. Hold on, Emmet. We’re here.

  CHAPTER 21

  ____________________________________

  The door was guarded by a massive number of spells and wards. That was bad enough, but according to Winter they were rigged, so that removing any one of them would trigger all the others.

  A quagmire of epic proportions. Any attempt to mess with the ward system would lead to a detonation surely to obliterate everything in the archival rotunda and all the tunnels that led to it.

  The records in the vault would vanish and the vault itself would collapse, killing any non-immortal inside—including Emmet.

  “You better know what you’re doing with these,” I told Winter.

  He nodded. “I do, you will break them.”

  Excuse me?

  “You can’t seriously think I’m the person for the job. You’re thousands of years old. I’m not even twenty-three yet.”

  “You will be in four months, two weeks, three days and, let me see…” He took a wind-up watch out of his pocket. “Five hours and seventeen minutes.”

  I glared at him. “Dude, don’t be a Stan.”

  “Stan?”

  “Stalker slash Fan. That’s you, a St
an.”

  He became curious. “It’s an insult?’

  “You can handle it,” I said. “You can also handle this door. I have no skill or even a frame of reference on how to hack elaborate ward combinations.”

  “It’s within your capabilities,” he said.

  “You’re nuts. My training with wards ended when I was a child, when I chose to live in the up above. That was eight years ago. We were learning how to break cookie jar wards back then. Not this.”

  “You can’t train for everything,” he said. “This is between you and your magic. Nothing else.”

  “Well, I appreciate that vote of confidence, but choosing me when we have you is utter bullshit.”

  “There’s a lot of utter bullshit in all the realms,” he said, then sat down cross legged. He wasn’t going to move a muscle until I gave it a shot.

  I opened my palms. “You’re really not doing this?”

  He didn’t answer, just assessed the state of his fingernails.

  “What a freaking dick,” I said to myself, but he could still hear.

  I calmed my breathing and closed my eyes. The only thing I knew was that you needed to sense the wards. Eventually, some patterns emerged but they meant little to me. I couldn’t locate the mechanism behind the origin of the protective spells. That was step one. Dealing with interlinked wards was an unknown step I never learned anything about.

  “Nope,” Winter said. “You’re going about it the wrong way.”

  I opened my eyes. “Makes sense, because I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.”

  “Don’t search for the wards, show them what you are.”

  “And how do I do that exactly?”

  He sighed. “Don’t hide from this, Luna. You were born for it.”

  Not knowing what the hell he was on about, I decided to show them the only things I knew about myself. My bloodline and my heritage.

  I glanced about the rotunda. Two crossed swords hung in a glass case on the wall. Their hilts were studded with precious stones which formed the legendary double-headed eagle that had served as an emblem and a heraldic symbol for Immortals for centuries.

  With a snap of my fingers, I imploded the glass and grabbed a sword.