The Darkest Frost: Vol 2 of a 2-part serial (TDF, #2)

by Tanya Holmes

  The man was either daft or in denial. Braeden was losing patience. “How is it that you don’t understand your circumstances, Mr. Antonelli? Have I not been clear enough?”

  ‘You said I’d be alive again.’

  “Yes, but the fire destroyed your body.”

  Antonelli became more agitated. ‘So you’re giving me a new one—a new body. That’s what you meant by a second chance, right?’

  There wasn’t any way to sugarcoat it. “When I leave…permanently to Join with Xavier, the silver cord connecting my soul to this body will sever for good. And what I leave behind shall remain.”

  ‘You’re leaving a corpse behind, Frost.’

  Braeden hesitated. “Not if you’re in it.”

  ‘Whoa. What?’

  “You can either go to your heavenly reward, or take root in this vessel and live. I won’t need it anymore. If this isn’t something you want, my body will die in a day…two days tops. You’ll move on soon after.”

  A minute passed before Antonelli spoke. Resolve resonated in his voice. ‘If I stay in your body—’

  “It’ll be your body then.”

  ‘Okay, well, is the hand thing permanent?’

  “No. It’s a spiritual disease caused by the split. Once I Join Xavier it’ll be gone for good.”

  ‘And what about the murder charge? Will I be stuck with that?’

  “No.”

  ‘How?’

  “Do you trust me, Mr. Antonelli?”

  The man didn’t hesitate. ‘I can’t believe I’m saying this, but yeah. I do. I mean, if you were lying I’d know it.’

  “Have I lied to you yet?”

  ‘No,’ Antonelli muttered, though fear still had a hold of him.

  “Well, here’s what will happen. You’ll fall into a deep coma, then you—that is, Braeden Frost, will appear to have died. The heart will stop. The skin will cool. It will be a legitimate death. But you’ll remain within. That should end all speculation about me, and I’ll be free to Join with Xavier.”

  ‘What happens next? To me?’

  “Our people will collect you from the morgue under the guise of a funeral home, but instead of burial, you’ll begin anew.”

  ‘What about an autopsy? The coroner will want to perform one.’

  “In that case, there’s plan B. We have…connections, insiders with teleportation skills. So don’t worry. When you awaken, you’ll be Yoreck and attached to this body by your own silver cord. They’ll likely place you in Detainment for a period.”

  ‘Detainment?’

  “It’ll be for debriefing and reeducation purposes. Not punishment. It could last one year, two…even five. It all depends upon your learning curve and level of willingness.”

  ‘What does that mean?’

  “Abandon any notion of betraying us. It’ll be physically impossible for you. It’s written in our DNA to protect and defend the masquerade of our existence. So while you may ache to tell the world, your Yoreck flesh won’t allow it. You’ll be Yoreck in every other sense of the word.”

  Antonelli mulled that over. ‘What about the life I had before?’

  “Gone.”

  ‘And Denieve? Will I ever see her again?’

  “Probably not.” Soul-deep pain leached from Antonelli. Braeden shuddered from it. Dear God, the man was still very much in love with her—deeply in love. “I’m sorry, Mr. Antonelli.” And he was. More than words could express. “All ties are cut for good in these instances. Now here are some additional hard truths, so consider them well before you make your decision. First, your mortal spirit is more corrupt and tainted than ours. That corruption or darkness will grow once you take root, but the part of you, that is, the part of me I leave behind—”

  ‘But you said you were going for good.’

  No one is ever truly gone. “An angelic essence, for lack of a better word, will linger. This is to your benefit. It’ll help control your darker instincts.”

  ‘So I’ll be you?’

  “No,” Braeden told him. “You’ll be you with my face in a Yoreck body—unless you’re able to retain my ability to shift.”

  ‘Shift to what?’

  “Like I said before, every Yoreck has different abilities. They’re in the thousands. For instance, as you’ve seen, my other half can dematerialize, fly, and teleport while I cannot. But I can alter my human appearance. As can my brother…”

  While Braeden was still speaking the police chief, a tall willowy fellow who was also Yoreck, passed by the bars and nodded at him. That one look told him everything was in place. Now the wait for Xavier to do his part would begin. Strangely, the jealousy didn’t bite as much. If anything, he was looking forward to it. At least then he’d be assured that the woman he loved would live.

  “So,” Braeden said, feeling the first whispers of hope. It was time for his mortal passenger to make his choice. “What do you say, Mr. Antonelli? Are you in or out?”

  CHAPTER 17

  MARYLAND BACKROADS

  Denieve

  ____________________________

  Xavier avoided main highways like the pox. Dividing his attention between the road and the rearview mirror, he drove with ruthless precision, constantly on the lookout for cops. There was an intensity to him I hadn’t seen before. He seemed darker. Sharper. Edgier. More dangerous. This was Xavier Frost in survival mode. Nothing and no one was above suspicion and everyone—including me—was a potential threat.

  That was okay though, because once I got past this Fever rage, I had every intention of giving him a run for his money. Unfortunately, I spent most of the drive drifting in and out of consciousness. He’d given me something in a needle, something more powerful than Braeden’s drug. It was to calm me, he’d said, but I suspected it was more about sedating me.

  I tried to take in the scenery, or what little I could see of it, anything to figure out where we were headed, but it was dark, everything was treelined, and the world flew by my window much too fast. I fought sleep as hard as I could. For it was there where the nightmares lived. The first starred Luke in a coffin. The second, and worst, featured Braeden in a steel prison cell awaiting execution. Maryland didn’t have a death penalty, but the nightmares had free rein. Operating on a loop, they’d pause and then resume once I drifted back under.

  Now and then I’d break out of my daze to string the same two words together. “The truth.” I said it over and over again to Xavier: awake, asleep, or somewhere in between, but he’d either ignore me or mumble, “Tomorrow.” In the end, I gave up. Whatever drug he’d given me was much too powerful.

  Hours later, I awoke standing in a shower stall, flush against Xavier. I had nothing on but panties and a bra. He wore a pair of gray boxer briefs and his steely erection pressed hard against my ribs.

  “What are you doing?” I demanded, pulling away as he rinsed soapsuds from my hair.

  His grip tightened. “Be still.” He tilted my head back. “You sweated through your clothes and insisted on washing your hair again. You said it felt ‘icky.’”

  Not that I remembered, but whatever. “Where are we now?”

  “Frederick.”

  I’d heard of it, but I had no idea where it was. North, maybe? Oh, hell. It didn’t matter. I just wanted to know one thing. “The truth, Xavier.”

  But just like all the other times, he countered with, “Tomorrow.”

  I was getting sick of hearing that word, but I couldn’t summon the energy to challenge him. God, how could I be so tired after sleeping so much? My eyes drifted closed and when I woke again, I was in a bed wearing a man’s button-down shirt and the same bra and panties. They were semidry now. I tried to stay awake, but oblivion claimed me once more. Thankfully the nightmares left me in peace.

  Sleep had become my hiding place, a dark cocoon to shield me. Reality was too raw and painful. Braeden wasn’t there, and neither was Luke. So I opted to take cover in a dreamless slumber. I don’t know how long I stayed, but the quiet woke me. It was
unearthly, like a sound vacuum or something.

  I blinked my eyes open, finding myself in a double bed with another IV attached to my arm. Faint light spilled through a set of black venetian blinds, the sort that made it impossible to tell whether it was dusk or dawn. Given how much I’d slept, my body clock was off. Even so, I was more clearheaded than I’d been in days, but that crazy edge remained.

  An incalculable touch of madness still boiled within me, beneath the surface, fueled by bewilderment and a generous splash of rage. My heart was broken and the person who’d broken it refused to tell me why.

  On the way over here—wherever here was—I’d begged Xavier for the truth. His rebuffs gave me painful flashbacks of all the times Braeden had kept me in the dark. I understood he had, at least in his mind, good reasons, but that didn’t negate the fear and confusion his secrecy had caused. Because of this, I’d suffered for weeks—scared, frustrated, and clueless—just as I was suffering now.

  After everything I’d been through—the lies, evasions, and revelations… Well, I needed to know what the hell happened to the man I loved and why my best friend and partner was dead. No amount of coddling and bullshit explanations would appease me.

  Sick or healthy, weak or strong, delirious or sane, I’d earned the right to demand answers about this insane world of theirs, a world that was now my own.

  With fear and awe, I slid my hand over my stomach, over the small baby bump that hadn’t been there yesterday. Tears stung my eyes. How could a child grow this fast? And how was it possible to love someone so deeply, someone I’d never met? This love gave me the strength to rip the IV from my arm, and when the bleeding stopped, I forced myself out of bed.

  Where the hell did he say we were? For the life of me, I couldn’t remember. That’s when I noticed he’d changed my clothes again. Dressed me in a wife beater and men’s boxers. His boxers. I pulled the waistband back. Unbelievable. He’d even changed my panties!

  Steadying myself, I took a deep breath. Though I had a slight case of vertigo and a low-grade fever, my legs were stronger. I didn’t feel as helpless and tired anymore either, but my head was still a mess. It felt like somebody had hit me with a shovel.

  I pulled on a pair of jeans from the suitcase by my bed, and stumbled into an adjacent bathroom. It wasn’t as large as the last one, but the décor was similarly Spartan and classic. I recognized the glass shower stall from hours ago. Or maybe it had been days. Who knew? An electric toothbrush, Colgate, and Listerine were assembled on a white marble basin.

  The mirror screamed what I had feared. I looked like death: hair all over the place, eyes fever-bright, pale skin. Yeah, I was still sick, but recovering. After I tied my hair in a makeshift ponytail, I relieved myself, brushed my teeth, and splashed my face with water. Then I gripped the sink and tried to focus on getting back to the bedroom, and from there, the hallway.

  I would escape and find Braeden. Our baby would lead the way. But first, I’d confront that murdering bastard. One step, two, three—the more I took, the easier it got. It was still hard to concentrate though. My mind wasn’t all there, but I would make do. Answers. I’d get them by any means necessary. I owed Braeden and Luke that much.

  Just thinking about them gave my heart a ruthless jolt. I had no idea what Xavier had done. My last memory was of him storming from Luke’s guest bedroom, hot with temper.

  Palm to the wall, I took measured steps, and by the time I made it to the hallway, I had a plan. To my left, a rail overlooked a large living room with a huge picture window that showcased a densely thatched wooded area. I didn’t see a car anywhere. The psycho had dragged me deep into the forest. Just great. So much for my plan of escaping on foot.

  Dusk approached—this I’d gleaned from the sun’s position. My knees buckled again. I caught my balance and made it to the first door I came to, turning the knob with caution until I could peek through the two-inch crack. Xavier lay on his back sound asleep on a king-sized bed. The thing nearly swallowed him—a testament to how large it was. Like Braeden, Xavier was formidable in height and size. Something I had to take into consideration for my plan to work. But first, I needed a lay of the land. More specifically, I needed a weapon, preferably a gun.

  I quietly shut his door and took in the long hallway before me. Four doors in total. The first led to my room, which was behind me. Number two, Xavier’s. The third, a bathroom, and the fourth—

  Wow. I stopped for a moment to catch my breath. It was all the way at the other end of the hallway. The door that faced me was bigger than the others. Its wood darker and sturdier. Made of mahogany I guessed. What were the chances it was locked? Pretty damn likely, given my luck and Xavier’s paranoid tendencies. I mean, two safe houses, not counting the tunnel we’d used to escape the first one.

  Much to my surprise, the door gave way without a sound. When I stepped inside, I couldn’t believe what I saw. The room looked like a cross between Fifty Shades of Grey, a medieval torture chamber, and a survivalist rat hole, complete with whips, chains, leather, gas masks, guns, ammo, grenades, a wooden rack… And, oh. My. God. What the hell was that?

  The crazy bastard had a bed of nails. As if that wasn’t insane enough, a huge empty marine tank took up the entire opposite wall. Next to it was a poster-sized picture of him standing in front of several tanks filled with sharks, piranhas, and jellyfish.

  I rolled my eyes and went to work, going through a series of metal drawers lining the walls, until I stumbled upon a set of handcuffs. I didn’t look for the key. He said he couldn’t get through steel. That’s what these were made of, as far I knew anyway. Maybe steel was kryptonite to Yoreck. Hell, it was worth a try.

  Twenty minutes later, I had a loaded gun, and I’d cuffed him to the bed. Lucky for me, he was a heavy sleeper. After I pulled up a chair at the foot of the mattress, I fired off a shot into the ceiling.

  Xavier startled awake, opening and closing his eyes to focus. He tried to touch his face. That’s when he noticed the handcuffs.

  He arched a brow. “Really?”

  “I got those from that sewer you call a playroom.”

  “You call it a ‘playroom.’ I call it the place I keep my toys.” He seemed to take stock, sizing the situation up. Without blinking, he shifted right into dick mode. “What? No whip?” He had the gall to wink. “I was hoping for a spanking.”

  A fresh surge of rage filled me. “You are insane.”

  “Yeah, doll. Certifiable. But unlike you, I embrace my crazy. It’s the only way to live.”

  “Must be, considering that bed of nails and the shark tank.”

  “It’s not real. The nails are rubber. As for my pets—”

  “I don’t give a damn about your stupid ‘pets’!”

  “Then why bring them up?” He jiggled the handcuffs, chuckling. “Tell me something. Are these supposed to intimidate me? Because as far as I’m concerned, they fall into the same category as that slap in the kitchen.” He paused for dramatic emphasis. “Foreplay.”

  “Then you ought to love this.” I cocked the gun. “Now start talking.”

  “Or what? You gonna shoot me?”

  “Yeah. And I just may kill you. It’ll hurt like a bitch, but then you’ll come back to life and we can do it all over again.” I dangled the gas mask from my index finger. “See, I even came prepared.”

  His eyes narrowed dangerously. “You don’t have the balls.”

  The staring match didn’t last long. I aimed for a spot by his head and fired.

  He jumped. “Are you nuts?”

  “Batshit apparently. So I guess I embrace my crazy too. I’m also prone to hallucinations, irrationality, and hysteria. It’s just been one of those weeks, you know? Now start with what happened to Luke,” I said as I pointed the barrel closer to his head.

  “Shit! Just put that fucking thing down and let me explain.”

  I cocked it again.

  A fire lit in his eyes and he scowled. “All right! He pulled a gun on me. We strug
gled and it went off. It was a freak accident, okay? But even if it hadn’t happened, he was a dead man anyway.”

  Hearing the words made it all too real. A cloying pain gnawed at my stomach, ate its way to my heart. With a trembling hand, I lowered the weapon and listened as Xavier went through the shocking events in excruciating detail. At one point, I didn’t hear him anymore. I’d gone someplace deep inside my head.

  I was still stunned stupid when he finished. Too shocked to react. Too grief stricken to process his words, because there lay insanity. I was numb. Hollowed out. A husk of the person I once was. But the numbness made a gradual shift back to pain, and pain back to anger, and finally, blind rage.

  Braeden was in jail—arrested for a murder he didn’t commit, and Luke, my God…dear, sweet Luke, was dead. Dead by that lunatic’s hand. Adding insult to injury, Xavier and I had to go into some Yoreck relocation program—Asylum he’d called it—in a few days.

  Seething, I turned my furious gaze back on him.

  “We both agreed this was the best plan,” he said. “For me to get you out, and for him to stay behind and deal with the cops. The house was swimming with them and a boatload of evidence. So he torched the place and surrendered.”

  Xavier kept talking, but all I heard was ‘torched.’ Luke had died in that house. Shot dead and then burned to a crisp like Caryn. Was he suffering on the other side the way she’d suffered? Tormented by unquenchable flames?

  “…then I teleported us to my car down the street,” Xavier was saying, “drove to Severna Park. You know the rest.”

  I smothered a sob, and attempted to make sense of this new reality, but it was too much. My throat tightened. “You vindictive bastard,” I cried. “You were mad at me and you murdered him.”

  “Yeah, I was mad.” He nodded a couple times. “But that’s not why he’s dead.”

  I motioned with the gun. “Liar. He’s dead because that’s what you do, Xavier. You’re a Protocol enforcer. A hit man. You kill people for a living. You had it in for him as soon as you found that business card!”