A Fistful of Frost

by Rebecca Chastain

  I gaped at her. Minus any candy-tainted profanity, Rose sounded more like Brad than herself . . . which made sense. As an empath, she would have had the full sensory experience of Brad’s explosive reaction to my unintentionally incendiary news.

  “I’m sorry,” Summer said.

  “Very sorry,” I said.

  We jogged toward the parking lot, neither looking at the other. I glanced back to check on Rose. The empath stuck her head inside the office and bellowed in a tone that would have done Brad proud. “Sam, get out here, and come prepared with the best jokes you know.”

  By mutual consent, Summer and I took separate cars, and I did my best to avoid thinking about how empty my Civic felt without Jamie. Zipping out of the parking spot, I cut Summer off and led the way, winding through downtown and along a twisting network of parkways and boulevards rather than taking more direct, high-speed roads. If the convoluted route irritated Summer, that was pure bonus; keeping Jamie close was my top priority, and I wouldn’t breathe easy until I’d made the entire drive without so much as a twinge of panic fluttering in my chest.

  When we neared Fiddyment, where once-expansive farmland now crawled with homes connected by mazes of streets, I realized I didn’t know the exact address of our destination. Pulling to the shoulder, I wriggled my fingers at Summer as she gunned past me to take the lead, deriving petty pleasure from her thunderous expression.

  After zigzagging down several streets, Summer parked in the middle of a dense neighborhood, and I pulled in behind her. Turning off the car, I blinked to Primordium. A few drones dipped along the streets, pestering people returning home from work and aimlessly buzzing over fences and rooftops. If the tyv was in the area, none of the drones were in a hurry to get back to her.

  “Are we in the right place?” I asked Summer when we climbed out of our cars.

  “We might have been if you hadn’t taken the scenic route. Who knows where the tyv is now.” Summer peered behind me, into the Civic. “Seriously, where is the pooka?”

  “Nearby.”

  “Don’t play games with me—” Summer’s phone rang and she jerked it from her pocket, answering with, “Pamela, I—”

  The inspector must have cut her off. Summer’s gaze shot to me and her free hand landed on the knife at her hip.

  “She looks normal, for her,” Summer said. “No, no sign of the pooka.”

  Damn it. Why had Brad told the inspector already?

  I tilted my head back and scanned the dark skies, hoping I’d catch sight of Jamie. I might not recognize his current form, but I would recognize his soul anywhere.

  Unless he’s disguising it, cloaking himself with atrum, I reminded myself.

  “Do you consider Madison a threat?” Summer asked, jerking my attention back to her. I thought I caught a glimmer of relief in her expression at Pamela’s response, and her white-knuckle grip on her knife hilt loosened.

  I rolled my eyes, turning my back on her so she couldn’t see the trepidation behind my false bravado. Pulling out my phone to call Brad, I walked three houses up the street to the corner lot, stopping next to a giant inflated Santa. I didn’t need an audience for this call.

  My phone rang “Hail to the Chief” before I had a chance to dial. I hit the screen to activate the call.

  “Tell me you’ve found the tyv,” Brad said.

  “That’s my line.”

  “She’s not there?”

  I glanced up and down the empty crossroads. “We’ve seen some drones but no tyv.”

  “Hot tamales on a zagnut!”

  I pulled the phone away from my ear to spare my eardrum. “I take it you don’t know where she is either.”

  “Tyver don’t disappear, not at night. They can disguise their daytime habitats, but they can’t hide when they’re feeding and laying eggs.”

  “Maybe she left our region?” I swiveled away from Summer’s scrutiny. She’d pocketed her phone and stalked closer, making no pretense about listening in despite keeping a car length between us.

  “She didn’t fly out; she went poof,” Brad spat. “One minute, I could feel her rotting nougat on my soul; the next she wasn’t there.”

  “I take it that’s not normal.” I had an inkling where this conversation was headed, and I desperately didn’t want to be right.

  “Not even if I take into account Madison’s law.”

  “Madison’s law?” Did I want to know?

  “It says every situation, no matter how straightforward, can be turned into a caramel cluster when you get involved.”

  Oookay. So he hadn’t forgiven me yet for involving him in the peace talks. Pinching the bridge of my nose, I blurted out my question. “Jamie is helping the tyv, isn’t he?”

  Brad’s heavy sigh gusted from the speaker. “Helping, hiding. Either way, I can’t ignore the timing. Neither can Pamela.”

  “I had hoped you’d give me time to work things out with Jamie first before you notified her.” I mentally congratulated myself for making it a statement, not an accusation.

  “She’s an inspector,” Brad said. “She knew the moment Jamie disappeared.”

  Bile churned in my stomach and I started pacing, ignoring Summer’s nosy presence. “What’s she going to do to me? Fire me? Demote me?”

  “Don’t worry about the inspector, Madison. Focus on the pooka. You can fix this. I believe in you.”

  I couldn’t tell if he was trying to convince me or himself, and it did nothing to reassure me.

  “You haven’t lost him yet,” Brad said when I remained silent.

  “He’s helping out the most dangerous creature in the region! One that could kill me. What do you mean I haven’t lost him?” My eyes stung, and I squeezed them shut and tilted my head back.

  “You’re still linked. You need to use your connection to draw him back and get him on track.”

  “How?”

  “Any way you can. The sooner the better.”

  I rubbed my forehead. “Anything more specific?”

  “Each pooka bond is different. See if the handbook has anything helpful. And stay put; Pamela is coming to you.”

  “Wonderful.” I paced toward Summer, then away, listening to Brad breathe on the other end of the line. “How worried should I be right now? About the tyv?” I’d seen how fast she could lay eggs. If she remained hidden, she could cover the city with her spawn in a few industrious nights.

  Brad hesitated.

  “Don’t hold back, boss. I need to know what we’re up against.”

  “Right now, the situation is bad. Since we don’t know where the tyv is, we don’t know where the majority of the drones are. They’re feeding unchecked, which means they’re keeping the tyv strong. The stronger she is, the more eggs she lays. If we don’t figure out where those eggs are, bad becomes dire. When those eggs hatch . . . catastrophic. A hundred thousand norms acting on their most base whims is not pretty. It’s the kind of behavior that leads to riots and military action.”

  “Oh.” I choked on the tiny sound, wishing I hadn’t asked. Tugging off my beanie, I wiped nervous sweat from my brow.

  “But that’s worst-case scenario, Madison. Stay focused on finding Jamie and convincing him to listen to you again.”

  “Uh-huh.” I gave myself a shake. “I’ll do my best.”

  “I know.”

  “Okay. And, Brad? I’m sorry again about the prajurit.”

  He hung up on a sigh.

  I tucked the phone into my pocket and checked our surroundings before meeting Summer’s distrusting eyes.

  “We need to stay put,” I said.

  “I know. Pamela is coming.”

  I blew out a heavy breath and resumed pacing, trying to shake the feeling of waiting for the executioner. Summer didn’t help. Since her phone call, she looked as likely to shoot me as the occasional drones, and she maintained distance between us, as if afraid my failures would rub off on her.

  Pulling Val from his strap, I dusted off his cover before lifting
him to my lips and whispering, “All apologies must be heartfelt to be considered.”

  Apologies? The word splashed across Val’s first page, the texture of the font conveying his incredulity. You should apologize to me!

  “For what? You’re the one who called me useless.” Weak and useless had been his exact words.

  You’re making ME look bad in front of Pamela! The inspector’s name received a caress of cursive and curlicue embellishments.

  “Help me fix things, then. Tell me how to get Jamie back.”

  You should have been firmer with him. If you had, we wouldn’t be in this predicament.

  My fingers curled into his cover. “I don’t need an I told you so.”

  When Pamela gets here, I want to talk with her.

  “Can you help me?” I gave him a shake. I was practically begging; what more did he want from me?

  I need to explain my side of the story. I can’t let her think—

  I snapped Val shut before he could finish his sentence. Call it childish or unfair, but it beat throwing him into the nearest pile of mud.

  Locking him back into his strap, I resumed pacing.

  A small sedan parked at the curb next to Summer. Two shining white women sat inside. The passenger’s form-hugging glow marked her as an enforcer, and I recognized the driver as Pamela, but I gawked at her transformed soul. The last time I’d seen her, her soul had bulged around her like a deformed cloud, but now it had solidified into the sharp corners and lines of a warden’s soul. Based on its shape, it looked as if her soul encompassed my region and Isabel’s old region, plus the regions to the north and south, all of it compacted into a dense, powerful shimmer barely larger than the inspector.

  Pamela swung open her door and marched to me. The other woman got out and greeted Summer.

  “Hey, Grace,” Summer said softly. Both enforcers remained near the car, but they didn’t take their eyes off me and Pamela, no doubt eager for the show.

  I recognized the enforcer’s name, though I’d never met her. Grace had been an enforcer under Isabel and had since been cleared of all suspicion. I’d been relieved to hear the verdict of her trial since she watched over Lincoln, my parents’ hometown. I would have loved to talk with Grace and beg for preferential treatment for my folks, but Pamela filled my vision as she bore down on me like she planned to run me over.

  “When did you last see the pooka?” she demanded, her British accent doing nothing to soften her tone.

  “A few hours ago.”

  Pamela’s lips pinched together; then she said, “Form a net. I need to test your purity.”

  I’d been expecting this, and I bubbled my soul over my heart on the first try. I’d had plenty of practice making nets since my first purity test, and my soul swelled a foot above my bulky clothing. Pamela thrust her hands into the bubble, her lux lucis hitting mine like a punch. I grunted but took pride in not flinching. With impersonal detachment, Pamela drove her energy into me, cycling through my soul, sampling and judging it. Gritting my teeth, I held my ground until Pamela stepped back and lowered her hands.

  “You’re clean.”

  “I know,” I snapped, rubbing my arms to dispel the creeping, crawling sensation of my soul moving beneath my skin.

  Pamela held up a thick plastic band with a small, hard box attached to it.

  “This is a tracker,” she said. “It will tell me where you are at all times.”

  “You’re kidding, right?” I’d seen these types of anklets on TV shows. They were the type worn by criminals on house arrest. This had to be some sort of bad inspector joke.

  “Take off a boot. I suggest your left.”

  “You’re serious?” I squeaked.

  “I can’t be at your side all the time. The pooka has proven he can mask his movements. I won’t let him hide yours, too. No matter what happens, I want to know where you are.”

  I crossed my arms. “I have a phone.”

  “And when the pooka returns, you’ll use it to call me.”

  “And when you need to know where I am, you can call,” I said, mimicking her falsely patient tone.

  “Your pooka is volatile. No matter what happens to you, this”—she waved the tracker in my face—“will tell me where you are.”

  I narrowed my eyes, reasoning it out. She wanted a way to track me in case Jamie turned dark and took me with him. She believed I was that easily corrupted. Weak and useless seemed to be the going opinion of me.

  Pamela snapped her fingers rapidly. “Every second you stand there, a tyv is defiling this region with more eggs. Pick an ankle. We’re wasting time.”

  I bent and unzipped my left boot, slapped my sock-clad foot to the icy pavement, and rolled up my pants. Indignation boiled inside me thick enough to steam the air around me. Pamela squatted and attached the tracker over my sock. Heavy and cold, it squeezed around my leg like a shackle.

  “Where you go, this goes, shower included. The only way to remove this is with a special key that I keep in my possession or by cutting it off. Don’t cut it off. If you do, I will receive immediate notification and assume you’ve been compromised.” She straightened to look me in the eye. “The moment the pooka is back in your control, call me. Until then, I’ll be checking in on you regularly.”

  I bent to roll my pant leg down, my shoulders weighted with the avid stares of my fellow enforcers. Should we gather more CIA personnel to witness my humiliation? It could be a live-action cautionary lesson. See, this is what happens when you fail to control your pooka. You get treated like a felon.

  I squeezed the sides of my boot around the tracker and yanked the zipper up. It stuck on the first try; on the second, the zipper flashed over the bulge of the anklet and bit into the flesh of my thumb pad. I flinched and shook the pain from my hand, then finished zipping the boot. I flexed my foot, and the unforgiving tracking box grated against my ankle bone.

  Now the night was complete.

  Pamela trotted down the street to her car and pulled a folded map from the door panel. Laying it across the hood, she tapped her finger against a section near the far left.

  “We don’t know where the tyv is, but we have a general area,” she said. “Summer and Madison, you’ll start here and work your way toward Festersen Park. Grace and I will start at the opposite end of this subdivision and work our way toward you. I’ve got a clan of prajurit sweeping the rooftops here and here.” She tapped two locations on the map.

  Summer and Grace circled the car to stand beside Pamela, but I remained next to the inflated Santa. I’d come out of my skin if I got close to any of the women. Pamela had broadcasted her distrust in me in the most public way possible, short of carting me off in handcuffs, and now she had the audacity to expect me to pretend nothing had happened and act like a team player. Summer and Grace were no better. They’d watched me be treated like a criminal, and their lack of protests said loud and clear they didn’t trust me, either.

  I wanted to scream. Not a single one of them could have controlled Jamie. He was too strong. He wasn’t like us: He wasn’t human and he wasn’t pure lux lucis. He didn’t fit into our rules, and he didn’t have to follow them if he didn’t want to. Not even perfect Inspector Pamela would have done any better in my shoes.

  But I didn’t say a word, because anything that came out of my mouth would sound like nothing more than delusions and excuses.

  “If you find the tyv first, call. If you stop seeing drones, call.” Pamela folded the map and opened the driver’s door. She put one foot into the car, then paused. “Stay vigilant.”

  She spoke to all of us, but her eyes rested on Summer.

  That’s right, Summer. You’d better watch me for the inspector. I might spontaneously go rogue, and she’s counting on you to take me down when I do.

  Pamela and Grace left. I limped after Summer, my anger simmering so hot it blinded me.

  18

  It's Okay if You Disagree with Me; I Can't Force You to Be Right

  Niko cal
led before we’d cleaned the next block of its smattering of drones. I’d left his ringtone as Justin Timberlake’s “SexyBack,” and the first hard beat made me jump. The next made me want to smash the phone beneath my boot. I didn’t need to be psychic to guess why the region’s optivus aegis was phoning me.

  “Brad told me you lost Jamie,” Niko said when I answered.

  “Did he? How nice of him to spread the word.”

  “Madison, this isn’t good. For either of you.”

  “You think I don’t know that? I’ve got a freaking tracking bracelet on my ankle courtesy of the inspector. I think things are beyond not good.”

  Niko remained silent for half a beat, then said, “Pamela gave you a tracker? That was smart.”

  I’d expected indignation from him. I’d expected surprise. I’d expected him to get off the phone, call the inspector, and berate her for being way out of line. I hadn’t expected him to agree with her actions. I thought Niko had a higher opinion of me.

  At least I knew now where we stood.

  “I’m so glad you approve.” My tone should have left frostbite on my tongue.

  “She’s making sure you’re protected.”

  Keep telling yourself that. “Why did you call, Niko?”

  “I wanted to make sure you understood the seriousness of your situation.”

  “I’m the woman wearing the anklet. I’m aware of the seriousness.”

  “Brad was obligated to tell me,” Niko continued as if I hadn’t spoken. “If I weren’t already in the area, I’d be headed this way. A loose pooka is a dangerous pooka. You need to regain control. The longer he’s on his own, the more likely he’ll go dark and I’ll be forced to take action.”

  My insides caved and the phone squeaked in my fist. Take action. What a lovely euphemism for murder. Jamie had been out of my sight for only a few hours, and already Niko threatened to kill him.