Rather than linger on the “my girl” part of Dante’s speech, I turned to Giselle.
“Why not go after Jared yourself from the beginning?” I asked. “Why go to all the trouble of stalking me and my family? Kidnapping Dante and Gavin? Threatening Valerie and me—stabbing her?”
Giselle pursed her lips as my voice rose.
“I tried locating Jared first,” she said. “The police in Sitka had let him go by the time I regained consciousness. They said he was a detective from Anchorage. I came to Anchorage, but the trail ran cold, as did yours. But I did find your family, and I found you as soon as you returned to town. Jared would have seen me coming anyway. I needed someone else to betray him. Someone he wouldn’t expect. Someone highly motivated.”
I straightened in my seat.
“I did my part. Too bad you didn’t take Jared out when you had the chance.”
“I’ll get him soon enough,” Giselle said cryptically.
Something in her tone sent a chill skating down my spine. For Giselle, “soon” could mean decades, centuries even. It could also mean within the year, month, or week.
Why did I get the feeling that both she and Jared were done waiting?
6
Home Base
A couple hours north, Dante slowed the truck and took a left off the highway. At first I thought he was making a pit stop for Tommy or himself, but he continued down a bumpy road, following tire tracks over about three inches of snow.
I leaned forward. “Where are we going?”
Dante looked over and grinned. “There’s a remote fishing lodge out this way. Closes up for the winter. Could make an excellent home base during the off season. We should check it out.”
The road weaved through spruce trees. At a fork in the road, Dante slowed and turned onto a path covered in fresh snow. We were the first to drive through the powder.
I wouldn’t mind a little stability while we figured things out. I wouldn’t mind regular access to plumbing, heat, and electricity either.
“I don’t suppose they keep the power on for the winter,” I said.
Dante glanced my way. “Keep dreaming, Sky.”
I sighed. “They have to have beds, at least.”
“Fully furnished,” Dante answered. “And there’s a big fireplace in the lobby. It shouldn’t be too hard to get that going.”
“Won’t the smoke attract attention?”
“Out here? Anyone who lives in the area year round is going to use their woodstove in the winter.”
“We don’t need a fire,” Giselle said.
“Well, I want one,” I said. The extra warmth outweighed the minimal risk.
Dante was right; any full-time resident wintering in the interior would be using a woodstove. Checking each one would be like checking under every pebble on a rocky beach. The agency wasn’t looking for smokestacks; they were looking for actual sightings. They were expecting vamps to call us in.
The truck bumped along the road at fifteen miles an hour.
“Any chance we’ll make it there before summer?” I asked.
Dante chuckled. “All it will take is one good snow dump and we won’t be able to access the place by truck, which means neither will anyone else.” His eyes glimmered. “We’re going to need a couple of snowmachines.”
Giselle cocked her head to the side. “I don’t understand. If there’s snow, why do we need to make more?”
“Huh?” Dante said.
“Why do we need snow-making machines?”
“Oh right. You’re not originally from around here,” Dante said. “‘Snowmachine’ is the Alaskan term for snowmobile.”
Giselle’s head remained tilted. “That doesn’t make sense.”
Dante took one hand off the wheel. “It’s a machine that drives on snow. It makes sense to me.”
The truck plowed through a three-foot snowdrift on the right side of the road. Giselle’s shoulder bumped mine before the truck straightened out.
“Is this the only road in?” I asked.
Dante grinned. “Affirmative.”
“Good. Where are we going to get snowmachines?” I asked.
“I know where we could pick up a couple,” Dante said. “The father of a friend keeps some at his cabin outside Fairbanks. He has a trailer for transporting them there too.”
I glanced sideways at him. “So when you say pick up, you mean steal?”
“I mean borrow for the winter,” Dante said.
“Right, because he’s not going to miss his machines in the winter.”
“The guy’s probably insured, and even if he isn’t, he can afford to replace them. It’s a small price to pay for the greater good.”
Dante slowed the truck around a turn, heading through spruce. It looked like a forest of oversized Christmas trees. For all I knew, we’d be spending the holidays here.
Eventually the landscape opened up and snow-covered mountains rose in the distance. Several small cabins dotted the open plain.
“Do people live out here?” I asked. I didn’t see any smoke rising from the chimneys.
“Nope,” Dante said. “These cabins are owned by the lodge. Available summers only.”
The road took a slight turn to the right. Actually, once we left the woods, it was difficult to discern the road from the rest of the terrain since both were covered in snow.
A large one-story, log-trimmed building came into view up head. Dante drove toward it. The area in front, like the road, was covered in snow and undisturbed. Five long wooden steps led up to a wide, covered porch and a set of double doors with twisted birch wood for handles. The boarded-up windows were about as inviting as a haunted house.
Dante drove up to the steps and stopped the truck. I jumped down after he stepped out of the truck, my feet leaving imprints in the snow. Tommy whined, and Dante pulled the seat forward for the golden retriever to pass. Giselle was the last one to step onto the snow-covered ground. She grabbed her pack before striding up to the lodge’s front steps. At the door, she set her pack down and unzipped the smallest front pouch. She pulled out a small kit and took out a thin tool, which she stuck inside the door’s lock.
One moment Giselle’s head was bent over the wooden handle, the next, she straightened out and pulled the door toward her. “We have access,” she stated.
“Home sweet home,” Dante said, heading for the doors. He glanced back at me. “Coming?” He stopped at the door and held it open for me. “Ladies first.”
Yes, ladies trespassing first. Leave it to the women to lead the way. I stepped inside and shivered. Dark, closed-up buildings always felt colder inside than outside.
Dante whistled. “Hey, Tommy.”
Tommy’s nails drummed over the stairs as he raced in to join us. He hurried ahead, not waiting for the guided tour.
Dante handed me a flashlight.
“Thanks,” I said.
The three of us pointed our flashlights into an open lobby with a high ceiling. White sheets covered the furniture. From the shapes, they looked like long sofas and chairs, coffee and end tables arranged in clusters near a great big fireplace.
We wandered slowly through the lobby, light beams alternating from the floor to the surrounding room.
Dante aimed his light at the fireplace. “See? We’ll have a nice, cozy fire in here.”
“There’s a kitchen back here,” Giselle called.
Dante and I headed toward her beam of light at the end of the open room. To the left, the lobby led into a partially walled off room. There were four tables pushed against a wall, but no chairs. It looked like a small breakfast nook. One opening led into the lobby, the other had a set of stainless steel swinging doors.
Giselle held one door open, pointing her flashlight around a kitchen, the light reflecting off stainless steel appliances.
Dante aimed his light at the refrigerator. “I don’t suppose there’s any leftover pie in there?”
My nose wrinkled. “If there was, you wouldn’t want
to eat it.”
“I’d eat old pie over fresh blood any day,” Dante said. He turned and headed back through the eating area. Tommy followed closely on his heels and passed him in the lobby.
I kept pace with Dante, who took a left turn into the east wing of the lodge, and down a long hallway. There were twelve rooms, six on each side, and each door was propped open with a triangular piece of wood lodged between the door and the floor.
“Pick a room, any room,” I said, shining a light inside the first one we came to.
The furnishings were sparse, but not covered like the sofas and chairs in the lobby. There was a wooden dresser, small desk and chair, a bed frame, and a mattress, but no pillows, sheets, or blankets.
There was another open door inside the room, and I pointed my light at it. The beam bounced off a mirror and blinded me momentarily.
Flashlight lowered, I walked inside, leaned over the sink, and turned the brass handle. No water came forth. Not even a drop. Of course the plumbing would be off for the winter, but it was still disappointing.
The next bedroom we passed was identical to the first—as was the third, fourth, fifth, and so on down the hall.
“Are they airing these rooms out or something?” I wondered aloud.
“Probably letting the whole place breathe as much as possible during closure,” Dante said.
He led the way forward. Actually, Tommy led the way. Follow the golden tail.
We walked to the very end where there was a thirteenth door, the only one closed.
“It leads to the river,” Dante said.
I put a hand on my hip. “And no one’s going to check on this place before next season?”
Dante grinned. “Nah. I think the owners spend winter in Mexico or the Caribbean. One of those places. I can’t remember.”
“Must be nice,” I said under my breath.
Dante leaned against the wall and grinned at me. “We’ll winter here.”
“And what do we do in the summer?” I asked. “Move into a ski lodge?”
Dante chuckled. “Not a bad idea. If we keep moving, no one will ever be able to find us unless we want them to.” Dante pushed away from the wall. “See a room you like?”
“I didn’t see any blankets.”
“We’ll find some. They have to keep them stashed away someplace. If not, we have our sleeping bags.”
“We’ll probably need them,” I said. “It’s freezing in here.” I glanced inside each room as we backtracked to the lobby. “What a shame. Look at all these rooms with private bathrooms, yet none of them work.”
Far ahead, a beam of light moved down the opposite hall. We reached the lobby about the same time as Giselle.
“What’s down there?” I asked.
Her eyes seemed to search the dark for mine. “Twelve bedchambers and a door leading outside.”
“It’s the same on this side,” I said.
Giselle walked to the front doors and stopped. “If we remove boards from a few of the front windows, we have a clear view of the road and anyone coming up. This would make a suitable location for an ambush.”
Dante walked over and opened one of the double doors. Sunlight spilled into the lobby. I stepped out and squinted. It was like coming out of a dark movie theater after two hours—one extreme to another.
Dante, Giselle, and Tommy joined me on the porch.
“We could take cover in the outlying cabins,” Giselle said, staring into the distance. “Make them think we’re inside the lodge.”
I turned off my flashlight and pocketed it. “And by ‘they’ you mean…?”
“Jared and Melcher,” she said, looking over the expanse between the lodge, cabins, mountains, and road.
“I don’t think Melcher pays house calls,” I said.
“But Jared would,” she said eagerly.
I folded my arms. “You’re not actually proposing we invite him over?”
“If you have a better idea, I will hear it now.”
My eyes narrowed on Giselle’s. The Vulcan was incapable of any look other than hostility, annoyance, or cold calculation. Her current expression was a mixture of all three.
“Negative,” Dante said. “We’re not prepared for an ambush, and Jared wouldn’t come alone. We all want Jared and Melcher to pay for their crimes, but, more importantly, we need to stop them from abusing their powers without risking agency operations.”
Giselle peeled her cold gaze from me to stare at Dante. “You would protect this agency after everything they’ve done to you?” She glanced at me. “Both of you?”
Dante straightened his spine. “I’d be dead if the agency hadn’t stepped in after my snowboarding accident. They’ve provided me with training, an education, an opportunity to make a difference in the world and serve justice to those who prey on the innocent.”
Right. Speak for yourself, Dante. He should really wean himself off the agency Kool-Aid and start drinking blood.
“And you?” Giselle demanded, returning her gaze to me. “Do you feel this same loyalty to your agency?”
I felt no loyalty to the agency, and I wanted Melcher and Jared gone as much as Giselle, but most of all, I wanted freedom—real freedom to go wherever I pleased without having to look over my shoulder.
“My loyalty is with my family and friends,” I said. “Until the agency is held accountable, they will never be safe.”
“I see,” Giselle said. It wasn’t her low tone that gave me pause, but the words left unsaid. Whatever she was thinking, I’d bet it wasn’t for the good of anyone other than herself.
“Tomorrow we will go into town for snowmachines and supplies,” Dante said.
“Someone could recognize you,” Giselle said. “I will go.”
Dante folded his arms over his chest. “The directions are too complicated, and I know where my friend’s father keeps the spare key.”
Giselle’s shoulders straightened. “That’s fine for picking up the machines, but I’ll need to get the supplies.”
“Sure,” Dante said, waving her off. “Now let’s unload.”
It didn’t take long to empty the truck. Once our supplies were inside, Dante built a fire.
“Have you picked a room?” Dante tossed another log onto the fire before looking over his shoulder at me.
“Right here. In front of the fire,” I said, pointing to the ground.
Dante chucked an armful of kindling over the logs. “This ought to keep us warm,” he said.
“I’m more worried about keeping us alive,” I said.
Giselle walked over to one of the windows on the far wall near the breakfast nook and pulled a loose board off with her bare hands.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
Giselle set the plywood on the floor. “Letting in some natural light. It’s like a cave in here.”
“I thought vampires liked caves,” I said.
Giselle frowned. “In Sitka we had a view of the ocean from our windows.”
Rags to riches. Meet the Morrels. Now there was only one left—not counting Xavier. A.k.a. Jared.
“Henriette always appreciated a room with a view,” Giselle said, staring absently out the window she’d uncovered.
I wished she wouldn’t mention Henriette. It conjured up a disturbing image of the woman getting her neck snapped by Jared.
I turned away from the fire and pulled a sheet off the nearest couch, tossed it aside, and sat down. Tommy came over to check it out, tail wagging.
I patted the cushion beside me. “Come on up, Tommy.”
The golden retriever didn’t need any more coaxing. He leapt onto the couch and sprawled out over the remaining space.
“Get comfy while you can,” I said.
Tommy flopped onto his side and I rubbed his belly.
Dante rubbed his hands together. “What’s for dinner?”
“For you?” I asked. “The Spam special.” When Dante’s nose wrinkled, I shot him a smug smile. “Is the ham can not doing it for y
ou anymore?”
Rather than answer my question, Dante asked, “Was there anything left behind in the cupboards or fridge?”
“The fridge is unplugged,” Giselle reminded him.
“We don’t need a fridge. It’s like a fridge in here,” I commented.
Dante turned to me. “Give the fire a chance to get going.” He moved to the couch and hovered by Tommy’s head. “Move over, buddy.”
Tommy closed his eyes.
“Too stubborn for his own good,” Dante muttered. He pulled a sheet off a chair and moved it in front of the fire.
Once Dante sat down, Tommy opened his eyes and repositioned himself, resting his head in my lap. I ran my fingers over his soft fur and stared into the fire.
Giselle grabbed a flashlight. “I’m going to see if there’s anything useful in the storage shed outside.”
“Good thinking,” Dante said.
Tommy lifted his ears briefly as Giselle walked away, but the comfort of the couch won over curiosity. He sighed, content.
I followed the fire’s progress as it began digesting the dry logs Dante had fed into the hearth in ripples of yellow and orange flames. A log fell off the pile toward the edge of the fireplace and sparks shot out briefly. My body tensed. Tommy lifted his head then lowered it back to my lap.
Dante and I kept our eyes trained on the hearth as though watching a movie. As awkward as it was having Giselle around, it was just as awkward when Dante and I were left alone together.
“So we’re laying low,” I said absently.
“Yup,” Dante responded, dragging his reply out remarkably slow, considering it was a three-letter word.
Silence followed, accentuated with a crackle and pop inside the hearth.
“We’re settling in for the long haul,” Dante said after a minute. “No more action. Not like last night.” He sounded wistful as he said the last part. Dante reached under his ass and pulled out the phone he’d taken from the dead vampire, thumbing over the screen.
“No texts. Guess he doesn’t want to leave behind any incriminating messages.” Dante held the phone closer to his face. “Not many contacts in his address book. Arlo, Jab, Pierce… What kind of names are these?”
Whiteout (Aurora Sky Page 5