His Touch of Ice

by Kody Boye

  We’d done something unprecedented.

  If what Guy had said was true, no one had ever shown such defiance.

  What would the Kaldr think?

  The possible ramifications of the night were endless. Poised beneath the high windows, cast perfectly in the light of the closest moon of the year, we had slept in a manner that defied every expectation of the people within this settlement. Guy’s father, Elliot’s partner, every man and woman who’d laid eyes on us the moment we’d entered the settlement—even the Kelda seemed without reservations, for she’d spoken to Guy as if he were an enigma set to change the world. Yet, for some reason, I felt like we’d made a terrible mistake.

  I closed my eyes and held my breath.

  No.

  I couldn’t think that.

  If I allowed myself to doubt, even for a moment, then I risked collapsing the foundation we’d been so desperate to build.

  Opening my eyes, I stared at the wall across from us and waited for some kind of realization to hit—for some false promise of security to come barreling through and strike me head-on.

  It didn’t.

  Then again, I wasn’t sure I expected it to.

  Looked upon as if I was almost godlike and regarded in a hushed reverence from mouths that seemed desperate to whisper but never opened, I assimilated my role as if I were no different than a butterfly recently sprung from its cocoon. From the Kaldr I passed in the house, I received complete respect, no longer the wretched stain upon their holy society, and the few I encountered about the grounds were quick to nod their approval—accepting, it seemed, of the position I’d now assumed.

  To someone who’d become so used to being glossed over, the attention was unnerving.

  All those eyes—all those fine, double-iris eyes…

  It was still hard to look at them without feeling somewhat afraid.

  On the third morning after my indoctrination, I woke to an empty bed and a sky whose brilliance was marked by the purity of the rising sun. Curled comfortably about the covers, I burrowed my face into my pillow and reveled in the warm, sun-dappled rays falling across my back.

  Leaving bed at such an hour seemed uncalled for. Why Guy wasn’t here, I couldn’t be sure.

  Unless…

  I opened my eyes to find the living room devoid of his presence. Unless he was in his office and out of sight, he was nowhere within the flat.

  A sigh passed from my lips.

  It wasn’t hard to imagine him and his father engaged in a familial battle of wits.

  My sense of peace ruined by the night’s events, I nudged an elbow beneath my side and pushed myself upright, allowing myself a moment to acclimate to the lighting before running a hand across my face. My first inclination was to shower—I smelled of sweat and the awkward tang of lying in a prone position—but my stomach was what drove me into a pair of shorts and then the kitchen.

  Over a glass of orange juice and a measly piece of peanut butter toast, I listened to the sounds of the house and tried to pinpoint Guy’s location.

  The walls were thin. Most anything could be heard if you listened hard enough. Every floorboard had its secrets. All you had to do was wait and—

  The low pang of voices echoed up the stairs and into the room—soft, urgent, pitched with worry over something I could not understand.

  I froze.

  My hand trembled.

  The glass of orange juice slipped from my grasp and slammed into the countertop, shattering upon impact.

  Standing there, staring at the broken remnants of what had just been whole, I realized only one thing could be wrong.

  I threw myself from the flat as fast as possible, the slap of my bare feet upon the wooden floorboards an ominous drum.

  At the base of the stairs—directly near where the threshold parted for the house’s twin wings—something came around the corner and pushed me against the wall.

  The weight was immeasurable, the hand against my mouth hot and clammy.

  So caught off guard, I couldn’t fight.

  Stunned, my eyes centered on the figure before me.

  Guy.

  His blue-lined eyes stared directly into mine.

  I tried to mouth something beneath his grasp, but he shook his head and held me steady.

  Shh, his eyes said.

  I nodded and melted against the wall.

  Though they had grown louder, I still could not hear the voices clearly. The friction that filled the air was prevalent in barking replies and snarled interjections from at least three or four men. Movement down the hall indicated others beyond the scope of the living room—pressed within the doorway, maybe, or possibly even pacing the front porch. Throughout, Guy’s gaze remained trained on the opposite wall—scanning, constantly, for something I could not see.

  Finally, a sigh broke through the chaos, silencing everyone. “I’ll have a word,” Elliot Winters said.

  A sharp curse sliced through the home’s atmosphere. “This isn’t over, Winters,” a man’s voice said, his French accent thick.

  What followed was an exodus of footsteps from at least six or seven people, if not more who had to have been waiting outside. Soon after, the rev of vehicles and motorcycles started up before they drifted away.

  Guy pulled himself away from me. “Shit,” he breathed.

  A second hand on my arm startled me. I jumped back into the wall and gasped just in time to see Amadeo. “Amadeo,” I said.

  “It’s all right,” the man said. “They’re gone.”

  “Who’s gone?” I asked.

  “What’s going on,” Elliot Winters said as he stormed up the hallway, “is you.” He stabbed a finger at me with such force I thought he would strike me and refrained from further action by exuding a long, throaty growl.

  “Elliot,” Amadeo said, placing himself between me and the man.

  “This isn’t his fault,” Guy said.

  “This isn’t his fault?” Elliot barked. “By God, son—how daft are you? Has Austin made you stupid?”

  “He was defending himself from someone who attacked him.”

  “When he was wandering the grounds alone after dark.”

  “Because you didn’t tell him that he was supposed to stay inside!” Guy barked, slamming his fist down on the railing.

  Elliot’s eyes narrowed. While all tension had faded from his features, what remained in his eyes was terrifying—to the point where I felt the need to shrink back. “Guy,” he said, his voice eerily calm. “A word, please.”

  Guy glanced at me, fear laced through his eyes and a tremor set upon his lips. I somehow managed to keep the tears from coming as he nodded, stalked after his father, and disappeared up the opposite wing.

  Amadeo set a hand on my shoulder. “Go to your room,” he said.

  “What’s going to happen?” I asked.

  Amadeo said nothing. He merely pushed me toward the stairs.

  An ungodly amount of time passed after I returned to the flat to wait for Guy. At first convinced it would only be a simple reprimand and nothing more, I settled down on the couch in preparation for Guy’s return in but a few minutes—ten, fifteen, probably no more than twenty. When the half-hour mark passed and it became obvious that he wasn’t coming back, I started pacing the living room in the hopes that the exertion would calm my nerves, though that was hardly the case.

  An hour later, I began to wonder if he was ever coming back.

  After two, I gave up all hope.

  I was laying out the couch, consoling myself with the fact that I’d avoided whatever circumstance had taken place, when I heard the door open and Guy walk in. His footsteps heavy, his sigh defeated, he closed the door just as I sat up to look at him.

  “Guy,” I said, “what’s—”

  His eyes silenced me.

  The sadness was excruciating, the pain all too obvious.

  Instantly, I was struck with a fear unlike anything I’d ever felt.

  “Jason,” he said, his deep voic
e harsh and filled with emotion. “I have to leave.”

  “What?” I asked. “Why—”

  “And you need to stay here. You can’t come with me.”

  There couldn’t have been a greater blow than. Fists were one thing, the butt of a gun another. Even slamming into the railing only to flip onto the earth couldn’t compare to hearing a declaration whose power came not from the makeup of its words, but the sincerity in its speaker’s voice.

  Conviction rang through Guy’s words.

  Elliot Winters, founder and ruler of this central Texas Kaldr clan, had just excommunicated his one and only son.

  Anything I could’ve said was lost on the breathlessness of the matter. Not one prone to fainting, I stumbled back and reached out to catch myself on the couch as I struggled to gain my composure, head spinning and chest heaving.

  No breaths were going into my lungs.

  I was hyperventilating.

  Guy quickly came to my side and took hold of my face. Bowing his head forward, he closed his eyes and whispered softly under his breath.

  Deep breaths, his lips said, though from his mouth I could hear no words.

  I reached out and tangled my hand in his shirt, following his instructions to the best of my abilities. Eventually, the fog came clear of my head and with it the miasma returned in force. I managed to fight it back and took in a deep breath just in time for Guy to step away.

  “What?” I gasped, white fog drifting from my lips.

  “You need to calm down,” Guy said.

  Crossing his arms, he centered his attention on me and waited for what I imagined he felt would be the best moment to explain what had just happened. While the bullheaded inclination to fight was there, I kept it restrained, knowing full and well that a man like Guy wouldn’t crack.

  After several minutes, I lifted my hands and asked, “What’s going on?”

  “My father says I’ve brought danger upon our clan by bringing you into our midst,” he said. “And because he would’ve exiled us both, I appealed to Amadeo’s better nature and begged him to let you stay.”

  “That’s why you’re leaving?” I asked. “To protect me?”

  Guy nodded. “You wouldn’t last out there, Jason,” he said, shaking his head. “All those people, all those cameras… the world would eat you alive, and there wouldn’t be any fucking thing I could do to stop it. So I did what any good man would do to protect the person he loves.”

  “By what? Making yourself a martyr?” He didn’t answer. He simply stared. “You can’t leave me here. I won’t let you.”

  “There’s no point in you living your life in misery. You’re better off at the ranch—here, with the Kaldr, where you’ll be safe from anything that can hurt you.”

  “I’d be better off with you!” I cried.

  The tears I’d managed to hold back emerged. Blinding in their intensity, they slashed down my cheeks and onto the floor with such force that I could barely see Guy, but maybe that was for the better. The urge to run and smack the hell out of him for being so stupid was almost too much. At least like this I couldn’t see.

  Guy’s silhouette remained in place before me—unmoving, not faltering.

  I huffed out a restrained breath of air just in time for it to turn into a sob.

  Guy stepped forward and took me into his arms. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, bowing his face into my neck.

  “What’re you,” I started.

  His lips pressed to my jugular.

  My limbs seized up instantaneously.

  I never meant to hurt you, his voice said inside my head. Don’t follow me, Jason. Please. Whatever you do, just stay the fuck here.

  The constellation of crystals before my eyes weren’t the result of ice, I realized.

  He wasn’t freezing me.

  He was putting me to sleep.

  I had begun to come to in the later hours of the night. Suspended in animation by the cruel beauty of sleep paralysis, I took note of my surroundings, enough to realize that I’d been placed in bed. Stripped of my clothing, save the boxers about my waist, I’d been bundled as if expecting a storm—which, I idealized, could not have been more perfect.

  Eventually, exhaustion took hold and I was thrust deep into sleep.

  The second time I woke, I was not chained by my own inhibitions.

  Barreling out of bed with the effort of the recently-awoken, I tore through the flat with just enough caution to ensure that I wouldn’t run into things before unlocking the door and storming into the hall. By this time, the clarity was beginning to come back—the visitors, the wait, Guy’s reappearance, our conversation—and with it raged the fire that quickly consumed my being. I could care less whether or not I was in my boxers. At that moment, I only had one thing on my mind.

  “Elliot!” I called, the rough timbre of my voice echoing throughout the house. “Elliot! Elliot! Where the fuck are you?”

  My heavy footfalls upon the stairs summoned the presence of one of the help, who blankly stared at me with wide eyes before I pushed him out of the way.

  “ELLIOT!” I screamed, tearing through the living quarters and toward the opposite wing. “You better get out here right now before I—”

  “What the hell is going on?” a familiar voice barked.

  I spun, enraged, toward the living room—where, atop the spread of couches, sat none other than Elliot Winters, a book poised in his robed lap and a pair of glasses perched atop his nose.

  “You know what’s going on, you bastard,” I growled.

  “There’s no need for such language,” he said, placing the book aside. “I imagine he already explained it to you, though knowing my son it might not have been the most perfect terms. He sacrificed himself in order to offer you asylum. I don’t understand why you’re so angry. What better gift could he have given?”

  “Why didn’t you throw me out? I’m the one who killed her!”

  “Because you would’ve been eaten by the wolves.”

  The tone in his voice couldn’t have been influenced by what he was. That was absolutely impossible. Not once throughout my time with Guy or any of these Kaldr had there been mention of such abilities. At that moment, though, it seemed to be just the case—that his eyes, so rigid and painfully-blue, could draw beads along my neck, his lips the frozen maw that could snare me whole. Any anger I’d had at that moment was diminished in but a second—snuffed like a candle whose flame had been bright and strong.

  “Do you honestly believe I didn’t think the whole thing through?” Elliot asked, snapping me free of my trance. “Do you truly believe that I am so stupid, Jason, that I didn’t think every option through? I’m more than aware of the predicament you suffer. Your faces have been on every single major news station since you left. You’re wanted murderers—serial killers if you consider the number dead. The fact that you’re still here is still a blessing, but I am well aware that you pose a far greater threat in the real world than you do here.”

  “What’re you talking about?”

  “Don’t you get it? You take one step off this property and the Howlers will have you faster than you could possibly imagine. But they won’t keep you for themselves. Oh, no. They plan on doing something much worse.” Elliot stood. He crossed the living room to stand before me, his impressive height even more intimidating up close. “Do you have any idea why I let Guy go and not you?”

  “Why?”

  “Because if he gets caught, he at least has options. His lineage provides him that. You, on the other hand…” Elliot smiled and shook his head. “You’d be the death of the Kaldr.”

  “You’re lying.”

  “No. I’m not. The Howlers’ primary objective has always been to eliminate us. With a human scapegoat, they’d be able to turn you into the authorities without question. And you—with nothing more than the fantasy of werewolves and mountain men you’d be forced to present—would bring the entire state of Texas down on us. It doesn’t matter whether or not they believe it
’s real. They’ll come, regardless.”

  “You could move,” I said. “You’ve done it before.”

  “But in the presence of the public? I’m not an idiot, and I am most definitely not a fool. Announcing our presence with such an act would only expose ourselves to the entire world. The Howlers have already been stacking the odds against us, trying to drive us from enacted safe zones and into the wild. All those livestock killings, so close to this ranch... on private and state property? If it isn’t them, it’s the others. One hint of what we are and we are either the next medical marvel or the greatest biological weapon. We’d be done—finished, kaput, especially if your stupidity and my son’s passions resulted in the Wendigo uprising. Do you hear me?”

  I didn’t say a word.

  Elliot leaned forward until our faces were no more than an inch apart. “Now do you realize why it was perfectly reasonable to keep you here, Jason? Guy spared you in letting you keep your memories. He could’ve wiped you clean. Instead, he chose to let you remember… all with the hopes of one day coming back to you.”

  Drawing back, Elliot glared at me with his piercing blue eyes, waiting for a response.

  When I gave none, he brushed past me and started for the hallway leading to the stairwell, but stopped before he could clear the threshold.

  “Jason,” he said, his voice no less firm than it had been the moment before. “I’m only going to tell you this once, so listen carefully: If you ever wish to see Guy again, do not leave the ranch. Believe me when I say there are far worse fates than that.”

  The night passed fitfully. Filled with sorrow, anger, regret, anxiety over the days and weeks to come, I tossed throughout and eventually succumbed to the sweet nothings of the alcohol cabinet. I certainly drank my weight in the stuff, and would’ve continued, had my body allowed. Instead, my early-morning indulgence ended with my head in the toilet, which promptly resulted in a much-needed and shameful return to bed.