FrostBite

by Claire Marta

  A heater in one corner provided the warmth Jasmine needed to begin to thaw out once more. The shivers that had gripped her began to slow.

  Twitch hurried up to the counter and started talking to the man behind it in hushed tones. He was young, in his early twenties at a guess. He was cute with dark blue eyes and strawberry-blond hair.

  Jasmine could not follow what was being said as it was all in French. She hadn't really paid attention to the foreign language in school, which she now kind of regretted.

  The young man turned and called out the back. A moment later another man appeared. From the resemblance, they were clearly brothers. This new one was older, though, and his blond hair slightly darker. Both looked like they spent hours hunched over their laptops. It was no wonder they knew Twitch.

  “This is Ralph and Jeremy, Internet friends of mine,” Twitch introduced quickly as he switched to English. “This is Jazzy—Jasmine—my girlfriend.”

  Jasmine noted he wanted to keep up the pretence of their relationship, so she played along. Knowing the techno mage, he was being as paranoid as ever. She couldn’t blame him. She was feeling that way a little, too.

  Both nerdy males looked her up and down in stunned surprise. They seemed hardly able to believe their eyes. She guessed they hadn’t expected Twitch to produce a girlfriend.

  “Hello.” She pinned on a bright smile. “It’s nice to meet you both.”

  “She’s a babe,” Jeremy exclaimed with a lopsided grin. His eyes were lit with friendly interest.

  “You’re Alan’s girlfriend?” Ralph shook his head in his belief. “I don’t believe it.”

  Alan, she was guessing, was the name Twitch used online. How fitting he would use an ordinary name, Jasmine thought. Online, she supposed, that’s what he strived for.

  “She’s braless and her panties are fine, black, and lacy,” Twitch purred low. His eyes did a nervous dance over the room for a moment. With one hand, he shoved some tangled cinnamon curls out of his face.

  Jasmine stilled.

  A short silence followed.

  She tried not to let her surprise show. How the hell had he known what she was wearing under her dress?

  It felt like the one time she had been at home and had to contact him. He had known exactly what she was wearing then too, as if he had eyes inside her house. It was a tad creepy. The words “potential magical cyberstalker” came to mind. If he wasn’t one already.

  Jasmine realised then that both guys were staring at her expectantly. She repressed the urge to growl. Of course they wanted the evidence verified. They were nerds after all.

  Giving them a stony glare, she flashed them her bare shoulder.

  When their eyes dropped low, she shook her head. “Don’t even think about it,” she snapped. “I’m not showing you my underwear. You’re just going to have to take my boyfriend’s word for it.”

  Twitch made a hum of agreement beside her. Giving him a sideways glance, she could see he was still looking worriedly around. Anxiety was pulsating off him, making the air almost oscillate.

  “So can we use your spare room or not?” His green eyes swung back round to his friends.

  Jeremy smiled and nodded. “Sure, Alan. You and Jasmine can stay as long as you like. We don’t mind at all.”

  The guy beckoned them behind the counter. Twitch went first with her bringing up the rear. They made their way down a narrow corridor and then up some steep stairs.

  “The bathroom is there,” Jeremy informed them as he passed a blue wooden door. “Kitchen's downstairs and here’s the room.”

  He turned the knob on the dark brown door and pushed it open. The room was sparsely furnished with a heavy, wooden wardrobe in one corner and a double bed in the centre.

  Twitch strode quickly to the window to take in the view. A white netting in front of it to stopped anyone looking in. Finally he turned. “This is perfect, Jeremy. thank you.”

  The young guy nodded. “Anything to help out a friend. I just can’t believe you got car-jacked in our beautiful city. It must have been awful.”

  He turned sympathetic eyes towards Jasmine.

  “It was,” she replied grimly, playing along with the story Twitch had obviously fed him. “Our first romantic getaway and this happens.” With a sigh, she sauntered up beside her friend. Jasmine stared up at Twitch with an adoring smile.

  Wary surprise lit his peridot green eyes.

  She was feeling like a little payback was in order.

  She draped her arm low around his waist and leaned against him. Now that she knew he didn’t mind being touched, she wasn’t about to let him get away with it.

  “I’m sure he will make it up to me though. Won’t you Alan?”

  Twitch looked nervously down at her. He suddenly seemed to have gone timid and shy. His tall, slender form was tense against her.

  An evil grin itched to spread across her face. It was hard, but she managed to contain it. Then, curving her hand over one of his butt cheeks, Jasmine pinched him hard.

  He jerked with a little squeal. “Yes, yes Jazzy. I promise I will make up for this.”

  Jeremy laughed. “I can see who wears the pants in your relationship.” He gave Jasmine a little wink.

  Twitch had gone a little red. Just for good measure, she kept he hand on his butt. Jasmine tried not to smile.

  “I don’t suppose you have a phone I can borrow? I promised my Dad I would call in while we were here,” she said. Their team would be wondering where the hell they were.

  “Sure. There’s a cordless phone in the bathroom you can use,” Jeremy informed her. “Just down the hall. The blue door.”

  Jasmine did flash him a smile this time. “That’s great. I can freshen up at the same time.”

  “Well if you need anything, Ralph and I will be downstairs.” Jeremy retreated from the room and closed the door behind him with a click.

  The moment he disappeared, Jasmine dropped her arm. She pulled off her heels. She was happy to finally be rid of them. A hum of pleasure left her lips. She wiggled her toes on the carpeted floor. Bliss.

  “Do you think we’re safe here?” she asked.

  Twitch shook his head. He hadn’t moved from the spot she had left him in.

  “We won’t be safe until we get out of France,” he said quietly.

  She dumped her shoes beside the bed. The mattress looked so tempting. It was practically calling to her. Jasmine knew, though, she didn't have time to rest. Not yet.

  She sighed. “I’m going to phone Mark and let him know where we are.”

  Twitch had turned back to peer nervously out the window. If anyone saw him, it was going to look creepy. “OK.”

  Trying not to roll her eyes at his back, she slipped out of the room.

  Chapter 7

  The faint sounds of the store filtered up the stairs. Soft voices in French chatted away—probably the brothers excited to have a friend visit. She doubted this happened often. Having people turn up on their doorstop was probably juicy drama. They had to be wondering why they didn’t have any money or luggage. The car-jacking story would only stretch so far. Hopefully they would be out of here before the brothers became suspicious.

  Jasmine arrived at the blue door and pushed it open. The bathroom was also blue. The tiles, rug, sink, and bath all the same shade. Masculine toiletries cluttered the shelves. You could tell a pair of bachelors lived there. There was not one single piece of femininity anywhere to be seen.

  Finding a bolt on the door, she slid it into place. Out of habit she noted the items in the bathroom. Her parents had raised her watching the 80s show ‘MacGyver’ on DVD. He was an American secret agent who could get out of any situation using the things around him. Jasmine had been obsessed with it. Many of her childhood memories were of using things around her to escape the house. Even now this kind of thing came in useful, so she kept on doing it.

  The cordless phone was sitting on the bathroom cabinet. She grabbed it, dropped the lid on the toilet, and
sat down with it in her hand. She knew the number to the office by heart—the only number she could ever remember.

  She tapped it in quickly and heard the ring on the other end. She hoped her boss was at his desk. Normally his butt was always firmly in his chair during working hours unless they were out on a case.

  “Detective Cumming,” Mark said business-like over the line.

  She had never been so relieved to hear her boss’s voice in her life. The guy liked to give her hell. She knew, though, he was just trying to toughen her up.

  “It’s Jasmine.”

  She could almost sense his stunned shock at the sound of her voice.

  “Holy fuck, Jasmine! Where are you?”

  She decided not to waste any time with pleasantries. “I’m in Paris with Twitch.”

  A long silence followed at the other end of the phone. She was not sure if her boss was experiencing shock again or surprise. Maybe he thought they had run off together? Maybe he was having a heart attack? She suppressed the urge to giggle nervously.

  “You better start at the beginning.” His voice was so grim when he finally answered that she didn’t have to worry. It already sounded like he had figured out what had happened. For that she was grateful.

  It took her fifteen minutes to explain the previous several hours' events. Mark had listened patiently, only butting in a few times to ask questions. Thankfully he did not have many.

  “I want you and Twitch to sit tight,” he finally said. “I’ll get someone over there from the French police to take you somewhere safe.”

  His tone had become a little harsh. Jasmine knew from experience, though, it was only because he was worried about them.

  “I’m worried about Twitch,” she admitted softly.

  “Just keep an eye on him, Jaz. This is probably bringing back some bad memories for him.”

  She glanced towards the bolted door. “What do you mean?”

  The squeak of Mark’s chair moving, like he was shifting around, sounded down the line. Then in a lower voice, he said, “He sold what he thought was harmless magical technology. People died. He blames himself for not realising what it would be used for.” Mark sighed. “Just stay where you are, please.”

  “OK, we can do that,” she assured him.

  They had nowhere else they could go anyway. She doubted Twitch would want to leave again until they had a guaranteed safe house. She felt the same.

  “And Jasmine?”

  She knew what was coming, Mark’s speech about not doing something stupid. Why was she the one who only ever got it?

  “Yes, boss?” she asked.

  “Promise me you'll be careful. Marcel Coupe is a dangerous man.”

  Jasmine blinked in surprised. “I promise. Both of us will.”

  She hung up after saying good-bye. Her boss’s concerned warmed her. It was nice to know he cared about them.

  How long it would take Mark to arrange a safe house for them was anyone's guess. For now though, they could hide out in this spare bedroom. It was a safer place than any. She was pretty certain no one had followed them. They could stay until the police arrived.

  Just then she noticed the first-aid kit tucked on one of the shelves. She hauled it out and unlocked the bathroom door. As she headed back to the bedroom, she noted it was now quiet downstairs. The brothers must have calmed down.

  Twitch sat cross-legged on the floor of the room. His long body hunched over as he worked. The little screwdriver was in his hand. Several tablets, mobile phones, and a laptop were strewn around him. He looked like a little boy surrounded by his toys.

  She was not sure where they had come from or how he had gotten them so quickly. He seemed to be very focused. She realised then, having these probably made him feel relaxed. That was a good thing. His head was lowered and the tangle of his long, cinnamon curls obscured Jasmine's view of his face. She was not even sure if he knew she was there.

  Sinking down onto the side of the bed, she watched him.

  “I got hold of Mark. At least now he knows where we are.”

  Twitch didn't respond. She watched as his nimble fingers danced over the insides of a tablet. They never hesitated, never ceased from their task. With a sigh she pulled open the first-aid kit. He was going to have to damn well stop long enough for her to see to his hand. She wouldn’t allow it to go untended.

  Rummaging around, she found a bandage. She couldn't remember if she was allowed to put cream on an electrical burn. Jasmine decided a covering would just have to do. It was better than nothing.

  She stood up, moved to his side, and sat on her knees beside him. Watching his moving hands, she got ready to pounce. When his wounded hand came close, she grabbed hold of his wrist.

  Twitch immediately stilled. She could feel the strong beat of his heart through his pulse point. He didn’t try to move away.

  “I’m going to bandage this up now,” she told him quietly tugging the arm closer.

  Twitch allowed her to take it. Relief flooded through her that he wasn’t putting up a fight.

  Jasmine carefully inspected his palm. The small deep burn was red and blistered in several places, but at least there was no blood and it wasn’t weeping. She reasoned that had to be good. Not that she was an expert or anything.

  She rested his hand on her knee and picked up the things she needed. As gently as she could, she covered the burnt skin with a sterile gauze bandage and quickly and efficiently secured it in place with a knot.

  Twitch admired her handiwork for a moment. “Thank you, Jazzy.”

  “You’re welcome, Twitchy.” She gave him a tired smile. “You want to tell me what you’re doing?”

  “Marcel will not give up.” His whisper was grim, his eyes hard. “I have to make sure we're prepared.”

  Jasmine had a feeling he was right. She doubted they would be safe until they were out of the country. Even then they might not be. The arms dealer had already found him once. Would Twitch then have to go into hiding? Would he be forced to leave the team?

  She pushed down the unease these questions bought. The team without Twitch would never be the same.

  “Why does this guy want you so badly?” she murmured.

  Suddenly he looked very uncomfortable. A look of bitter guilt passed across his face. “People died because of things I sold on the black market. I was so fucking caught up in creating I didn’t even stop to consider what they would be used for. When I finally did it was too late. I lost…things important to me. Marcel was one of my customers and recognised my potential to make him more money.”

  Jasmine hesitated, not sure if he would answer the next question. “What things did you sell?”

  Twitch’s shoulders became rigid with tension. It was then she sensed she had pushed him too far.

  He turned his face away with a jerk. The fall of his tangled hair acted like a curtain to hide his features. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “OK.” She wasn’t going to push. He was obviously feeling uncomfortable about the whole thing.

  Her head was still aching and she wanted to rest her tired feet. She crawled back over towards the bed. Leaving him in peace seemed the best option. Tinkering calmed him.

  She took a painkiller from the first-aid kit and swallowed it down.

  “Why not try to get some rest, Jazzy? You looked shattered,” Twitch said from behind her.

  Exhaust was heavy on her shoulders. The big bed did look inviting. She hadn't slept since they had been taken. Everything had finally started taking its toll. She knew if she didn’t rest now, she would be more than dead on her feet. Being at the top of her game was a must. For Twitch’s sake, she would rest.

  “OK,” she agreed, looking back at him. “But just for a few hours. Don’t let me sleep all day.”

  Twitch nodded. A moment later he was back busy fiddling with the electronic devices on the floor.

  With a sigh, Jasmine dragged herself onto the mattress. The softness actually made her body ache more. S
he doubted whether she would fall asleep with everything still churning around in her head, but the moment her head hit the pillow, she was out.

  *

  Eric gazed out at the early afternoon sunlight through the tinted window. The black limousine was moving smoothly though the flow of traffic. Paris was bustling with mortals all bundled up against the wintry cold. Enfolded in the luxury of the car, they were safely away from the mayhem of Christmas shoppers on the streets. Safe from prying eyes.

  Eric adored the winter. His icy powers were at their height during the coldest season of the year. This made him more powerful than at any other time. He was in his element, so to speak. A force to be reckoned with.

  “You do not appear to be upset that your genius had flown the coop,” he remarked, settling his gaze on the man opposite him.

  Dabbing at his continuously sweaty head Marcel smiled. “He has not fluttered far.”

  So he was already aware of where they were hiding? Eric did not let his dismay show. He had been hoping the mage and the girl were safely tucked away. Marcel, though, he realised, would not give up. Would he have to intervene? Could he risk it again without being exposed? The more he interfered, the more his plans were forced to change. He had never had his formidable control and composure tested so much.

  It was the girl’s fault, of course. He had been perfectly in command of himself before he had set eyes on her. She had bewitched him somehow—he was sure of it. Perhaps she was a witch. She certainly had a siren’s body. Just thinking about it made him hard all over again.

  “You liked Twitch’s girl, mon ami?” Marcel gave him a sly smile. “Perhaps I will gift her to you to sweeten our deal, hmmm?”

  Eric kept his face expressionless. How careless he had been to let the arms dealer sense his interest in her. Foolish. He let a cold smile touch his lips.

  “I’m sure she could entertain me for a while before I grew bored. The weapon you have promised excites me far more.”

  The Frenchman waved his hand dismissively. “Yes, a few nights until our business is finished. Then you can be rid of her. It will be easy enough to do. The weapon will be in your hands soon.”