Frost

by E. Latimer

  Still keeping an ear open for the news, I shuffled to the desk in the corner, rifling through the papers on top. Of course, there were no envelopes, but there was a notepad and a pen, so that would have to do.

  The male anchor droned on. "Police say it's too early on to speculate. Most of the girls were last seen Friday night. October first.”

  "They seem to have disappeared almost within an hour of one another, which has, of course, led to some speculation about a pact of some kind. Either to run away together or something far more grim"

  "Right, Jan. It's hard not to draw comparisons to something like the 2012 suicides, where a number of teen girls went missing and were found later in the Scugog river."

  Pen hovering over the paper, I hesitated.

  God, that was grim. We'd been gone two days and they had decided we'd jumped off a bridge? Okay, I definitely needed to tell Dave.

  All the speculation was going to kill him if I didn't let him know I was safe. Of course, there was no way he would believe me if I wrote what had actually happened. I had to keep it simple. With a shaking hand, I gripped the pen more tightly and wrote.

  Dave, I’m safe. So are the other girls. We can’t say where we’ve gone. Please don’t look for us. It’s complicated.

  I’ll contact you again later and let you know I’m still okay. I’m sorry.

  Love Megan.

  "Police have made an appeal for the public’s help. If you've seen anything or know something about any of the missing girls, please call the number on the screen."

  The note was crude at best, and he'd probably be hurt and furious that I was letting him dangle with so little information. But there was no explaining what had actually happened. It was this or nothing at all. This had to be better than thinking I was dead.

  I folded the note and put it in my pocket. Maybe I would ask the woman downstairs for an envelope. She might even give me a stamp. She seemed nice.

  Thankfully, the news had switched over to something a little less bleak as Jan and her coworker discussed GMOs, so I tipped back onto the bed and shut my eyes. I’d go downstairs and mail it in a minute. But I was so tired. I'd just rest my eyes for a few seconds.

  I shifted, rolling around to get comfortable on the hard bed. My last lucid thought was more of an emotion, a feeling of deep sadness and betrayal coupled with the image of Loki's face.

  ~ * ~

  Ice cracks under our feet as our army—two thousand strong—march toward the fiery realm of Muspelheim.

  Birds fly from the trees, and the wild caribou clear the path before us.

  Even the wildlife fear the jotun army.

  My fist is tight on my sword, my smile savage. The words of my queen are still warm in my breast.

  "My daughter, you make me proud. Continue to do so today. Take them while they are engaged in their foolish revelry. Overturn their tables. Spill their extravagant feasts to the floor. Bring me the head of their king and their women and children for slaves."

  I remember the firm touch of her hand on my shoulder, the iron strength in her pale arms as she spoke.

  “Fight for me, Amora.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  I bolted upright, my thin nightgown clinging to my back. The darkness was unfamiliar, and it took me a moment to remember I wasn't in bed at home. I was in a seedy motel room, being chased by mythological beings—giants, things that shouldn't exist. And, if ruining my entire life hadn’t been enough, they were invading my dreams every night.

  And…Amora. She’d said that name in my dream. What the hell did that mean?

  My entire body shook. I curled my knees up to my chest, huddling miserably in the center of the bed. Tears burned the backs of my eyes, and I finally gave in to the inevitable, pressing my forehead to my knees, shoulders shaking as I sobbed.

  Who was this queen invading my dreams, and what did it mean? It couldn’t be the same queen Erik had talked about. It felt like I was going insane.

  I shivered and uncurled, stretching my legs. Somehow, I was sweaty and cold at the same time. Shuffling to the bathroom, I hit the light switch, and squinted at the sudden onslaught of light. Right now, having a hot shower and collecting myself was the priority. I would deal with all of this tomorrow.

  Maybe Erik could explain. Maybe he'd be able to tell me why I became some kind of sword-wielding nutcase every time I closed my eyes. And why this strange, cold woman haunted every dream.

  I stripped the sticky nightgown off as fast as I could, moving for the shower. A flash of movement in the mirror caught my attention and I stopped, pulse fluttering.

  The woman in the mirror wasn't me. Couldn't have been me. She had all the same features: tall and lean, with small breasts that had been the subject of many frustrating bathing suit shopping trips, long legs with knees that were just a little bit knock-kneed, a scar near my left hip from when I'd run full tilt into a glass coffee table. She had a pointed chin and a too-thin bottom lip—but that’s where the resemblances ended. Her eyes were the wrong color. Pale blue.

  Like Erik's eyes, a sensible little voice in my head said.

  The eyes weren’t the only disturbing thing the mirror showed me though. My hair was now several shades lighter than it had been that morning. There was no getting around it. I wasn't blond anymore. My hair was white.

  I let out a wheezing gasp and sagged forward, bracing myself on the counter top. It had to be my tired eyes playing tricks on me. I shut my eyes tight, grasping the edge of the sink.

  Snap out of it.

  A crackling sound made me jerk upright, staring down at my hands, and cold sweat broke out on my forehead. The bathroom sink was encased in a thick sheet of ice, and the wooden cabinet beneath it was covered in thin, white frost. I couldn't keep doing this.

  Sooner or later, I was going to hurt someone again.

  Chapter Fourteen

  I was used to certain morning sounds—birds chirping or Dave singing in his off-key tenor in the shower. Instead, my morning preparations were set to the soundtrack of the dull, repetitive thump of someone's headboard against the other side of the wall.

  The sounds of the hotel were not the least bit soothing. As if I hadn’t had enough to keep me awake last night, someone had been stomping around on the floor above, slamming doors. A screaming match had ensued somewhere over my room, a woman and a man with a deep baritone voice.

  Out of all the craptastic hotels, I’d picked this one.

  I sighed, my stomach roiling in protest as I shuffled to the bathroom. In the mirror, everything was still the same. My hair was still white, my eyes too blue. Part of me dreaded going to see Erik, but mostly, I needed to know what the hell was going on. I had to get answers today.

  The stream of hot water felt good in spite of the hotel's lousy water pressure. I pressed my forehead against the slick wall and shut my eyes for a second, just breathing. When I finally stepped over the lip of the tub and into the steamy exterior of the bathroom, I felt slightly more human.

  The thought made me roll my eyes, and I leaned forward to scrub the condensation on the mirror away, which did little but leave a trail of smears. Well, never mind makeup anyway. This wasn't a beauty contest. I was going to meet a frost giant for breakfast.

  I groaned. Even the thought sounded ridiculous.

  ~ * ~

  The sandwich shop looked bright and cozy from the outside. I pushed through the doors, ignoring the cheerful ringing of the overhead bell, darting a suspicious look at the customers.

  No Erik yet. I slid into an empty booth at the back, pulling the knit cap low over my new, crystal-blue eyes. Keeping my back to the wall allowed me to keep the street in sight. The smell of bacon frying made my mouth water, and I promised myself a massive sub as soon as he got here.

  That reminded me of the couple of dates I’d had back home. I'd always picked at a salad, fearing I would look like a pig, or dribble on myself or something. Well, screw that. I was hungry. I planned to shove mouthfuls of sub into my face
right in front of him. If he didn't like it, he could kiss my ass.

  The bell jingled, and I looked up from under the hat.

  There was Erik, his blue eyes scanning the shop. He was dressed in torn jeans and a teal-colored T-shirt. His brilliant, blond hair was tousled, and his sharp jaw bristled with the start of a beard. He’d probably look like some kind of Viking if he let it grow.

  He spotted me, and his face lit up. Then he strode over and slid into the booth across from me. "Amora, I'm so glad you came. I wasn't sure if you would."

  "I was debating not coming," I said. "Little spooked lately with all these nut cases chasing me."

  The side of Erik’s mouth quirked, but the amusement didn’t reach his eyes. "I'm going to assume you're talking about Muspel."

  “Loki, you mean? What's his deal?" A mix of fear and anger flared up inside me, and I held my breath, waiting for Erik to answer.

  He rubbed a hand over his cheek, and his mouth twisted in a grimace. "The sons of Muspel sent him after you. They know you're valuable to us, and they'll stop at nothing to take everything from us. They hate us."

  "So he...he really would have tried to kill me?" My voice sounded small.

  His brow furrowed, but thankfully, he didn’t ask me how I knew that. I didn’t feel like telling the bed and breakfast story. It was embarrassing.

  "I'm sorry, but it's likely." He shook his head, and the look of pity on his face made me grimace.

  "Why are you looking at me like that?"

  "Loki got to you, didn't he? He made you trust him." His voice was gentle.

  I nodded, feeling incredibly foolish.

  "Don't blame yourself." Briefly, he rested his hand on mine, his fingers long and cool. "Loki is a trickster. He plays havoc with emotions. He can get anyone to trust him, and he does whatever he wants. Takes whatever he wants." His gaze was probing.

  I sat up with a jolt of shock. "No! Oh my God, no. We didn't—I mean..." My cheeks burned as the memory replayed, the bed and breakfast—lying in bed with Loki, holding his hand, his arms around me as he showed me how to freeze the water in the basin. I felt my face grow even hotter.

  "I'm sorry." Erik shifted in his seat. The tips of his ears were red. "Forgive me. I didn't mean—”

  "It's fine," I said, too quickly.

  There was silence while I worked up the courage to finally ask what I'd been meaning to. "I think something weird is happening to me."

  He quirked a brow, and I took a deep breath. "My hair is getting lighter. It's white now..." I pulled the knit cap off, letting my bright hair fall around my shoulders.

  To my surprise, Erik's grin grew wider.

  "What?"

  "Beautiful," he said.

  I blushed bright red again, and he laughed. "Most of the other girls have pale-blond hair, but yours... Well, you almost look like a pure-blood."

  I bit my lip, my brow furrowing. What exactly was that supposed to mean?

  He seemed to pick up on the thought, because he blinked rapidly and then cleared his throat. "Sorry. I didn't mean it that way. I just mean that most of the other half-human girls have blond hair. Yours has lost all pigment." He ran a hand over his own hair. "Like mine. That's normal for us."

  "My eyes have gotten lighter too. Is that...normal? Am I turning full frost giant or something?"

  Erik rubbed his chin, his eyes fixed on the far wall. "Jotun hit puberty late, and then all at once. As in…wake up one morning and this." He gestured at my hair. “But your human genes should be slowing that process down. It could be that your father's genes were simply more dominant than the other men who were sent out.”

  That gave me pause. "Tell me about that."

  "About the experiment?"

  "Yeah. Loki only told me a little. I'd like to hear you explain it." I folded my arms over my chest. No doubt, his explanation would sound a little less "evil scientist" than the original version.

  He rubbed the back of his neck. "Queen Eira is very forward thinking. While some of us are opposed to relations with humans, she knows we have to be realistic. We're a dying breed. If we don't mingle with humans, we'll be gone in another thousand years or so."

  "That still sounds like a long time."

  "Not when you live for hundreds of years."

  I choked on my water. "Wh-what?"

  "Sorry." He ducked his head. "I shouldn't have sprung that on you. I just take it for granted."

  I sputtered, wiping the corner of my mouth. "No kidding. You're serious though? How long will I live? How long do...I dunno, hybrids live?"

  "Probably two hundred years or so. At least, that's been my experience." He tried to hide his smile. "It's true. I swear."

  My mind was reeling. I would live to be two hundred? I would outlive regular humans. Suddenly, I was seeing the sandwich shop through new eyes. Every one of these people would be dead—dust and bones—and I would still be alive. I would outlast the ten-year-old kid who was messily devouring a grilled cheese sandwich over in the corner. The curly-headed little girl dancing around her mother's legs.

  Erik stayed quiet as I took it all in.

  I whirled back around in my seat. "And this...this thing that happens. How I accidentally turn stuff to ice. Can it be controlled? I was upset last night and I froze the bathroom sink..." Erik pressed his lips together and the corner of his mouth twitched.

  "I'm glad you think it's funny."

  "I'm sorry." He cleared his throat and attempted a straight face. "Really. Don't worry. If you come back to the palace with me, I can teach you everything about your powers. I can help you have full control of them."

  It was tempting.

  "I'll never accidentally freeze someone if you train me?" I asked.

  When he nodded, relief flooded through me. That alone was incentive to go with him, but I still didn’t totally trust him. After the Loki mind tricks, I would have been stupid to start trusting blindly.

  "This is going to take some time." I fidgeted with a strand of my newly lightened hair. "I...I'll want more information, and...I want to know more about what will happen before I go anywhere with you."

  Erik shrugged. "Of course. It's the only smart thing to do. I know you must have more questions."

  "Tons," I said. "I want to know more about your queen. What's she like? What does she look like?” At least that might help sort out my dreams. It couldn’t be the same person. My brain had to be making stuff up because of the stress. “Also, why am I with my uncle and aunt? Why couldn't I be with my real parents? I mean, at least my mom?"

  “Well, I’m hoping you’ll meet the queen and see for yourself.” He frowned, expression thoughtful. "As for the other question, that's a tough one to answer. At first, the children did stay with their biological mothers, but there were...problems. The male jotun do not make good husbands to human women. Most of them simply returned to the palace after the duty was done, and that..." He hesitated.

  "It pissed the women off." I settled back against the seat and crossed my arms over my chest again, shooting him a severe look. "And who the hell can blame them? They basically knocked the women up and then left them with kids."

  "Yes," Erik said, still fidgeting. "So the queen changed the program."

  "Yeah, they took the baby away instead, leaving the women with nothing." I scowled at him. "That's even worse."

  He ran his fingers through his silver-white hair, eyes fixed on the tabletop. "I don't agree with the program, but the queen believes it’s necessary so we don't die out."

  "Is it so hard for you jotun to reproduce?" I shifted in my seat. This conversation was weird and uncomfortable, but I had to ask these questions. They would drive me crazy if I didn't.

  "Jotun women do not conceive easily—perhaps once every three or four hundred years—because we live so long. But now, we are at war. We're losing people, people we can't wait around to replace."

  "So you guys used human women to repopulate your race." I sank lower in my seat, eyes narrow.


  He looked desperate to steer the conversation in a different direction. "Some of them loved the women and stayed with them. What can I tell you? It's a flawed system. We know that. If we could do it differently, we would, but we can't. It's either this or face extinction."

  I thought about the dreams I kept having, about the charitable feeling—feelings of love, even—I had for the queen. The real-life queen didn't sound particularly nice. Should I mention the dreams?

  It seemed too personal. Too weird. And I'd had enough weird for the moment, what with all this talk of reproducing. I could tell him next time. Or maybe they would stop before then.