WinterJacked: Book One: Rude Awakening

by Athena Grayson

  “Wow!” The wind tore the word out of Lin’s throat and flung it back towards him.

  Underneath his rear end, the snow slide felt smooth and not-uncomfortably cold. On his lap, the warm weight of Lin felt much better. In front of them, the building rose up to meet them at a speed that sent lances of stark raving terror through him.

  Followed immediately by epic thrill as they spun around the last turn, banking up the wall of the slide. They hit a bump—a bump, fer Chrissakes! Who built this place, and were they twelve?—and caught air. The weightless sensation sent a spike of adrenaline through him before the hard reality of gravity jolted him right in the hams. “Ow!”

  They came to a stop in a loose, fluffy snowbank seemingly designed for just that purpose. Snow sprayed up and rained back down on them, coating them in wet pinpricks of cold. Lin turned on his lap, a sparkle in her eye. “That was fun! Let’s do it again.”

  He stretched his legs out in front of him while she scrambled up. “Sure,” he muttered. He struggled to his feet and dusted off his backside. “Only next time I get to sit on your lap.”

  She laughed. “Aww, was I really that much of a hardship?”

  He finished dusting off and paused for a critical adjustment. “Not you. The sudden stop at the end.” He gave a rueful rub to his rump. “I was already starting a bruise from the ice rink.”

  She patted him. “I’ll kiss it better later.”

  The Winterlands seemed to agree with her. He caught her hand. “I hope that’s a promise.”

  Snowflakes sparkled in her hair as she tilted her face up to his. For a second, he forgot everything and just wanted to drink in the deepness of her eyes and hair in the pearly-pale light of the snowscape.

  “God, Jack. You never said it was so amazing!” For a micro-second, he thought she might be talking about them. But her eyes were fixed on a point over his shoulder.

  “What?” Crushing disappointment shouldn’t be this easy to summon, and shouldn’t come from something so simple as a moment. He turned and followed her attention, then understood.

  The landscape of the Winterlands stretched out before them. A snow-covered plain stretched out to what he guessed might be the north, rising to meet the rolling hills of a landscape that echoed the one in the real world. Copses of trees broke up the white with charcoal tangles of bare branches and deep shadows. Evergreens spilled down one of the hillsides that, if he were oriented right, overlaid the actual Hillsides neighborhood. Boy, the residents would be pissed if that many real trees blocked their view of the downtown skyline.

  “You can see it all.” Lin breathed the words, as if afraid of disturbing the tableau. “I can see the city underneath. There’s the bank.” She pointed to her right.

  The outline of the neo-classical building, unnoticed by him until she pointed it out, resolved itself like an optical-illusion drawing. Now that he saw it, he saw others, too. “There’s the Overlook.”

  “Ooh, that restaurant built into the side of the hill. I’ve never been, but I’ve always wanted to go. It’s been there for something like eighty years, and the waiting list is ridiculous.”

  A tiny thrill of elation spiked through him. “Your wish is my command, my lady. While I was at Edifice, I designed the remodel.” At her glance, he couldn’t help a smug smirk. “I’m in good with the owner.”

  Her smile widened into a grin. “Look at you, playing with all the movers and shakers. I heard the mayor goes there once a month.”

  “Probably to hide from her critics.” Now that he could see them, the outlines of the ordinary-world buildings stood out in clear contrast against the cloud-gray sky. Some, like the Overlook, were brighter than others. All were transparent, like pencil lines overlaid one on the other so that the outline of apartment high rise over on the East End could clearly be seen through the outline of the insurance company skyscraper. “This place is—it’s huge. How are we supposed to find Shane in this?”

  She turned in a circle. “I was sort of hoping you’d have an idea.”

  “You were the one with the clue.” Aside from the outlines of the buildings, the landscape was devoid of movement, save for the wind that blew across the flatter spaces and moved the trees like beckoning hands. Jack would be lying to himself if he said he didn’t feel a pull to run towards them, just to see what was in the shadows.

  “It’s not like the guy came out and said, ‘Hey, your friend stood you up because he’s in the spirit world.’ That’d be too easy.”

  Jack shook his head. “They’re all like that. They speak in riddles, or in rhymes like that scarecrow. It’s like they’re allergic to making sense.”

  “Maybe they’re limited in what they’re allowed to reveal or speak about.” Lin moved a little ways away from him, towards the slide they’d just come down. “Maybe we’re not the only two with a Thing We’re Not Talking About coming between us.”

  He spread his arms wide. “I wouldn’t say it’s coming between us.” A hint of fatalism flattened his tone. “We’re neck deep in it. It’s all over the place.” He tipped his head back, gazed up at the white sky. “Why did I think I could keep it away?” It’s everywhere. It’s behind and on top of and underneath.

  She’d stepped away from his rhetorical question, pacing around a little ways away. “You know, I think this place is just a tad bit off.” She pointed to the slide, and then to the left of it. “In the ordinary world, there’s the fountain, there’s the edge of the ice rink, and—” she turned. “That’s weird. That building right there is the inflatable, but the slide’s not inside it.”

  Jack suddenly recognized the shape as he followed her gestures. “The slide is where the big Christmas tree is.” The conal shape made sudden and disturbing sense. “The ice rink should be a little over this way, too. But it’s localized. The Overlook is where it should be, the bank is where it is in the real world—”

  “Ordinary world, Jack. As much as I hate to admit my mother might be right, this world is as real as the one we just left.”

  ~*~

  Lin worried that she might have pushed into verboten territory, but, short of a brief tightening of Jack’s expression, life moved on without missing a beat.

  “I can see the Christmas tree, now that you mention it.” The slide made a stylized mimic of the tree’s shape. But what Jack said was true. Some of the lines around here were off, almost as if the square was narrower here in the Winterlands.

  The wind kicked up and she started to shiver. “Maybe we can start by going into the ice mountain over there. It’s sort of where Macy’s is, maybe they’ve got a cafe, too.”

  Jack shook his head. “It’s the inflatable ice palace. Only I wonder who designed it. The angles are all wrong.” He turned back to her. “And if it does have a cafe, no food or drink, okay? I don’t know for sure, but let’s not take any chances.”

  “Agreed.” The kicky suede boots that matched her scarf couldn’t stop the cold from nipping at her ankles. She paused to tug up her socks. For a millisecond, her boots stood on black asphalt, not white snow. She jerked her head up, recognizing the giant white diamond that meant “Buses Only” under her feet, and irrationally afraid that an oncoming bus might be, just that moment, unable to brake in time to keep from splattering her all over downtown Christmas. But there shouldn’t be a road here. This is the other side of the plaza, where the cafe tables are. It hasn’t been a road for years.

  A niggling doubt started at the back of her mind. She glanced up again, seeking out the building outlines for the familiar skyline. Something was off. “Wait—”

  Movement caught the corner of her eye and the blue creature tumbled out of the snow bank at the end of the slide. “Frostling-Tribe bids Majesty welcome to the Realm!” His helium-pitch voice made her want to giggle, but his tone clearly spoke of much gravitas, and she watch Jack for his reaction instead.

  Jack’s lips twisted. “Er, thanks?” He bent down. “If ‘Majesty’ were looking for a lost person, where would ‘Majes
ty’ look?”

  “None are lost to Majesty in his own realm. Speak, and any Winterkin shall appear, as Majesty commands.”

  Jack shifted from one bent knee to the other. That he’d taken his height down to the little Frostling’s was not lost on her, nor was it lost on the Frostling, who ducked just a hint lower than Jack, and seemed to focus himself on making sure that some random fidget on Jack’s part didn’t inadvertently put the Frostling above his regent. Jack, you have no clue, do you? “We’re not looking for a Winterkin,” she said. “We’re looking for a human person.”

  The Frostling shook his head violently, sending frosty white hair flying around his face. “Never! Majesty must know that no humble kin of Winter would bring human-tribe into the Realm. It is forbidden!”

  Lin’s eyes widened. “Jack?” She whispered behind her hand. “I’ve been here twice now with you.”

  Jack looked up at her. “I don’t think it’s a problem for me.” He glanced at the Frostling. “It’s my realm and I can do what I want in it, right?” Contrary to the words, his tone was anything but entitled. He almost sounded depressed. “If I didn’t bring Shane in here, and they can’t bring a person in here, then Shane must not be here.” He eyed the Frostling. “Am I right?”

  All they have are words. She remembered the scarecrow’s warning. They speak in riddles and don’t make any sense unless you’re thinking in a very specific mindset. “Wait.” She put her hand on Jack’s shoulder. “No—what did you call yourselves?—humble kin of Winter would bring a human into the Realm. That doesn’t mean they couldn’t lure a human in, or a human couldn’t follow one in. You didn’t force me in here.” New awareness settled on her like a blanket of fast-falling snow. In her own thoughts, Jack’s world was already starting to bleed into the ordinary one.

  Jack glanced up at her again. “And I’m not humble kin. Apparently there are two kinds of us.” He gestured to the little creature. “These guys, and ones like me who are…” He trailed off. “More individual, I guess. More autonomous.”

  “Like Kit, maybe?”

  He shrugged. “Maybe. I’ve never met an Oddling that didn’t look like a refugee from a demented puppet factory where everyone speaks in riddles.”

  “So why would one hint to me that Shane was here if he wasn’t?” Now she bent down to address the small creature. “Could you help us find a human? Help us find our friend, if he’s in the Realms?” She caught herself using the same tone of voice she’d use with Starla’s kids, and readjusted. This critter might look like a child, but to think of it as a child might be a very dangerous assumption.

  The little creature shifted from foot to foot and reminded her of a holiday cartoon Santa’s elf. “Frostling-Tribe does not know where Majesty may find friend-of-Majesty human-tribe. Frostling Tribe does not bring human-tribe into the Realm.” His child’s voice grew more agitated.

  She shared a look with Jack, who rose. “I think we’re at a dead end with this one. Frostling tribe can’t help us.” Light dawned in his eyes and he crouched again. “But what about another tribe? The Chillsprites? Would they know? I see you guys all the time in the real wor—ordinary world. Or some other Winterkin? One of the—other kind, whaddyacall’em?”

  The Frostling fidgeted. “P-proud kin, Majesty.” He ducked his head, his frost-fluff hair hiding his swirling eyes.

  Lin joined in. “Surely someone might have seen Shane?”

  “Humble meddle not in the affairs of Proud.”

  Jack touched the Frostling’s shoulder, just with the tips of his fingers. A shiver ran through the little creature. “It wouldn’t be meddling if you just told us what you’ve seen.” His tone couldn’t be more gentle, but the little blue guy still looked like he’d bolt any second. “Help us out? Please?”

  The Frostling’s eyes widened and he ducked his head. “Humble kin know not.” He sighed and glanced over at the building. “But perhaps She does.”

  ~*~

  “She?” Jack felt the dread enter his voice. Why did that one little pronoun lance dread through his midsection?

  “She honors Majesty in this Realm with Her presence.”

  Lin tugged him to a standing position. “I can hear capital letters in that sentence.”

  “Who is She?” Yep. The dread was still there, and starting to solidify.

  The Frostling closed his eyes. “In the deepest of cold, She cradles us. It is from Her that we all come.” His entire body trembled with the awe that threaded his voice.

  Jack was used to the little creatures looking at him like he was some sort of rock star, and they swarmed him like paparazzi sometimes. But this was a quieter awe, found more in churches than concert halls. One that made him suddenly wary.

  “She knows all of the Realms of Winter. Perhaps Majesty’s pet human-tribe as well.”

  “Hey, he’s not my pet. In fact, no people are anybody’s pets.” He felt the need to clarify this very important point, but Lin was already following after the little blue creature towards the building.

  The edifice looming in front of them had lightened to a dirty aquamarine. Asymmetrical, it resembled the prow of a very blocky ship. Jack tilted his head and peered up at it. “Bold decision, making the top wider than the base. Fine for a structure out in the middle of nowhere, but I’m not fond of the design in an urban environment.” Lin shot him a look and he realized he might be muttering to himself out loud. “Sacrifices views of the sky at the ground level for distance drama. Makes people feel uncomfortable.”

  “Nice critique.” She raised both her eyebrows. “Pretty ‘bold’ of them not bothering to put in a door, either.”

  He pointed. “It’s right there, see?”

  The facade of the building was done in three dimensional vertical striations that had a precision feel to them in spite of not being parallel to one another, as if someone had constructed the building out of straws or sticks lined up next to each other. Or great tubes of ice, because he suspected that was what the structure was made of.

  “To be honest, I sort-of expected more igloos.”

  ~*~

  “This is an igloo. Just—made differently. Kind of reminds me of ice pops. Bailey and I used to eat them by the truckload during the summer. This place looks like it was made out of a zillion giant ones, all stuck together. You remember ice pops?”

  “Little plastic tubes with frozen colored sugar-water in them? What do you mean ‘remember?’ We still stock the break room freezers with them every summer at EvoWorld.” She paused. “Or at least, we did. They do. Maybe.” She sighed.

  He glanced back at her. Too late, he remembered she’d been let go. On Friday. Right before Christmas. I’m an asshole. “Hey.” He tugged her hand, forcing her to turn towards him. “I’m sorry.” He spoke the words holding her gaze.

  A little line appeared in the middle of her forehead. “What?”

  He took her other hand in his, wishing the gloves weren’t necessary. “I’m sorry EvoWorld booted you.”

  Her smile failed to ascend to her eyes. She shook her head. “It’s okay.”

  He tightened his grip. “No, it’s not. We’ve been so wrapped up in my crap that you haven’t even really had a chance to grieve.” Leaving EvoWorld had left him with enough of a wound—and he’d made the choice to do it. He felt like an ass for not putting a stop to all the otherworldly nonsense and being there for her.

  She looked away, towards the snow-covered landscape, then back at the clumsily-sculpted building before them. “It’s—well, it’s not okay, I guess.” Her gaze met his, clear and steady. “But it will be.” She took a deep breath, exhaling fog that wreathed her dark curls with their blue highlights. “I knew it was coming, I could prepare, at least a little. I just…didn’t want to see the writing on the wall. I’ll miss it.” Her lips twisted in rue. “Well, I’ll miss having a steady paycheck and health insurance. I won’t miss the new crop of punks the buyout brought in.” The furrow on her brow cleared. “I held on too long. I think I know
why, now, and I’m not sorry to let go.”

  Her words were deceptively light. The way snowflakes were light as they piled up and crushed each other and turned into glaciers that scoured lakebeds out of landscapes and moved bedrock. “The past couple years have taught me a thing or two about how not to get your life back together. If you want, you can learn from my fail.” He couldn’t help glancing down at the snow at their feet, looking for solid ground underneath. The sudden weight of their conversation could drag them both down without warning.

  ~*~

  The churn and curl in her midsection burned in a place of cold and wind. The thermal difference sent a wave of dizziness through her as she realized she hadn’t missed EvoWorld or even thought much about it at all over the weekend. In addition to her suspicions about the origin of a building built out of ice pops, superimposed over an inflatable castle, and accessed by an interdimensional silly slide, a much darker and more adult suspicion began to build in her about the truth of the nature of her career the past few years.

  She shied away from giving it words—even mental ones—and turned towards the building. Jack’s building, perhaps in more ways than one. “Let’s move on, shall we?” She had to clear her throat to get the words out. The falling sensation—the one that had started on the ice rink, and intensified during the slide down into un-reality—picked up speed again. Why did I ever think I’d gotten over him? How much of a fool am I?

  “I swear I’ve seen this design before.” He scratched his head.

  She avoided looking at his expression. It would be the one she remembered from EvoWorld brainstorm sessions. One she never saw on the guy that replaced him as art director, nor the woman who followed him. “I still don’t see a door, made out of ice pops or otherwise.”