WinterJacked: Book One: Rude Awakening

by Athena Grayson

  The lovely eyes crystallized, giving him a new definition of cold. She rose up, a sight to behold as her torso towered over him. Jack thought he might have made a bit of a miscalculation in challenging her. “I have held the whole world in my grip. Possessed every land and the oceans in between them! I still hold the tundras! The poles!” Her distended belly made her awkward, but no less frightening at such a huge scale. “One tiny urban freehold in a temperate zone is as a single snowflake in the blizzard to me. I, who move continents to my whim—Ah!”

  “Jack, it’s never a good idea to piss off the pregnant lady.” As Lin breathed the words, the Mother Glacier’s belly rippled. The smile faded from her lips, replaced by an open-mouthed grimace.

  Against his will, Jack’s hand went out to the wall. When his fingers touched the ice, he felt cold seep down into his bones so deep that his vision blurred and time itself seemed to congeal and ice over. In slow motion, he pulled his hand back and came away gasping. He shook his head to clear it. I forgot. He saw in the Glacier the face of his mother—mother to everything winter—and made the mistake of thinking she was human.

  “Sleeping child.” Her voice held a thread of amusement to it. “You betray yourself.” Even if she sounded weaker, it still felt like she was laughing at him. “Taking pride in a realm where you are loath to even set foot, much less rule. Of all my kings, perhaps it is your brow that chafes least beneath the crown.”

  A blush crept up the back of his neck. “All your kings?”

  “My reach is still vast. My realms are still many. My children are still legion.” The Mother reclined again, her strangely-hued eyes dimming with exhaustion. “Surely you haven’t labored under the impression that you are unique, sleeping one?”

  He pondered that. “You mean the Chillsprites bother other people, too?”

  Lin gave a warning poke to his side. Whatever. It was such a relief to realize he could even speak of them, much less complain about the mess they sometimes made. “You haven’t really thought about this much at all, have you?” she asked.

  “I’ve tried not to.”

  Her unspoken “how’s that workin’ out for ya?” hung in the air between them, nearly tangible in its presence. But after years of focus—pretending so carefully not to notice anything out of the ordinary unless it grabbed him by the nose—which they occasionally did—his mind was used to shying away from idle speculation. Speculation led to curiosity, curiosity led him to ask questions, and questions led to answers he didn’t want to know.

  “You’re already neck-deep in it, Jack.” Lin’s low-voiced statement cut right through the turn his thoughts were taking. When had she developed the ability to so keenly read him? “Might as well go all-in.”

  Her words gave him permission he hadn’t thought he needed or desired. Just like that, the careful rein he kept on his thoughts about the Oddlings snapped free and he allowed himself to truly see what was around him.

  The Realm appeared to exist alongside the ordinary world, sharing the shape of its space, if not the physical attributes. The boundaries of his realm affected his ability to get out to the outer suburbs—of course it wouldn’t be all of Winter’s realm. His Advisor’s map had shown him that. And if the Chillsprites and Frostlings were forces and concepts made real, those concepts existed far beyond the county line. Maybe concepts that included his role. “I don’t know,” he said to the Mother. “I’ve never gotten an invitation to the invisible crown club.”

  The escort Frostling spoke while the Mother Glacier breathed through another contraction. “Nay. Majesty’s realm is the Winter realm for this region. Other Winters—many other Winters—are. Most are larger, but at present, many are still fewer than Winter in the past.”

  “So it’s like the weather, then,” Lin said. “Winter in Buffalo isn’t the same winter as you get in Nashville, right?”

  The escort nodded. Jack glanced around the room at the Oddlings still present. Chillsprites, Frostlings, the pine-needle people—Jack thought he heard them call themselves Evergreen tribe—and something that looked like a puddle of slush given form—each of the creatures he could clearly imagine as part of a typical winter for around here. He realized there was probably a multi-volume bestiary of critters present across the realms. “I bet places like Minneapolis probably get some pretty big snow creatures.”

  “And the Himalayas have yeti.” Lin followed his gaze around the room. “But no yeti here.” She sounded a bit relieved. Truth be told, so was he.

  So then, what was a glacier—and if she really was the mother of them all—what was The glacier doing here? “I can take a pretty good guess at what you are, my lady. But I’m coming up short as to why you are where you are. Assuming this isn’t just an entry point to one large realm, you’re in this particular realm. My insignificant point, my single snowflake in your blizzard, such that it is.”

  She raised one translucent eyebrow whose arch wouldn’t be out of place over a two-story picture window. “You said ‘my insignificant point’. As to why I am in this realm—”

  He could have kicked himself for the slip. The Scarecrow’s words danced in his mind. Words are all we have...

  The annoying drip of distant water ended with a faint pop. A moment of silence, and the liquid sound returned as a rush, like a leaking faucet in another room. The sound of running water worked its way through the walls, setting his teeth on edge.

  Her swollen stomach rippled. She bent forward and her face changed again. Even separated by a wall of thick ice, he felt as much as heard her scream. He squeezed his eyes shut to block out the incredible pain she must be feeling. Beside him, Lin uttered a soft gasp. “Oh, it’s beautiful.”

  He opened one eye. Beautiful? The room shuddered and her stomach rippled again. She writhed, curving in on herself and drawing her knees up. Pressure built until his ears popped and the crack of large-scale ice thundered through the chamber. The tight knotting in his stomach was nothing compared to what the Mother Glacier had to be going through, but if sympathy pangs meant anything, he could say he felt for her.

  A snowy monolith floated out from between her legs. The Kin in the room seemed to sigh in unison.

  Jack didn’t know whether to throw up or shout, “Mazel Tov!”

  “She is calving.” The Frostling slipped his hand in Jack’s and squeezed.

  “So Mazel Tov it is.”

  The Envoy eyed him with confusion. She threw a worried glance towards the icewall. “It is much too early for calving season.”

  A light appeared at the Glacier mother’s feet and the form drifted towards it. Clearly not a baby, unless they were coming in cubelike blocks these days, the iceberg floated into the light and a great, rippling shockwave shook the floor. Behind the icewall, the Glacier mother shuddered and sank back down on her bier. This time, her gaze showed pain. Even as he watched, her belly swelled again and another rumble thundered through the chamber.

  “We can’t stay,” he murmured to Lin. “This whole place is unstable.” Somehow, he needed to find the voice to ask what he needed to ask about Shane, and get out of here.

  Lin didn’t seem to hear him. She was watching the Glacier Mother’s abdomen as it visibly engorged. She winced. “That can’t be right.”

  An Evergreen female slunk up near them. “She calves more and longer with every turning of the year. It exhausts her. It weakens us.” Her gaze fixed on him.

  “Can’t somebody do something about it?”

  The Frostling looked up at him, his eyes telling him he wasn’t the only one who knew what a stupid question that was. He looked away. If he really was a—a king of theirs, then it would be on him to be one of those somebodies. He shared a look with Lin, who’d been telling him this all along. Her expression was softer than the ball-buster he expected, but no less direct. She didn’t have to say anything to let him know who she’d volunteer for the job.

  He focused on the Mother again. Her crystalline eyes had dimmed, but they still shimmered with the w
atery glow of sunlight through ice.

  He didn’t care how the Oddlings milling around the hall viewed him—he’d been trying to get them to see him in a less positive light since he first started seeing them. But, as she’d pointed out, that wasn’t exactly working out for him, and he hadn’t tried giving them what they wanted.

  The Glacier woman’s belly had already begun to distend again. “That can’t be right,” Lin murmured. “Even Starla got a ten-minute break between twins.”

  Jack threw her a helpless glance. “I don’t think this is something you can time.”

  He scowled and sighed. He cared what Lin thought, and so far, she hadn’t run screaming away from the weirdness. And as much as the fifty-foot woman challenged him, he still couldn’t be okay with seeing her in pain. He placed his hands on the ice wall, feeling the low thrum of stressed-out load-bearing structure that made the architect in him clench in fear.

  “What can I do?”

  ~*~

  The Mother’s head lolled to one side. Her smile, directed at him, twisted her lips in a bittersweet curve. “You, child? What can you do?”

  It was hard enough swallowing his tongue to engage at all in the madness that surrounded them, but to have it thrown back in his face really bit it. “I’m not your child,” he said. Somehow the most petulant, childish thing he could focus on was the Mother’s continual reference to him as a child. I’m forty years old, for Chrissakes. The kid at the grocery store calls me ‘sir.’

  In her clearly exhausted face, the Mother’s eyes nevertheless pinned him like chill sapphires. “You are as a motherless babe in these Realms, needing a parent’s constant guidance to understand that the hands that wave in front of you are your own.”

  Her voice had dropped with each word, and her last words were spoken with the susurration of a rush of water falling into endlessness.

  “Well, that was a smackdown if I ever heard one,” Lin muttered.

  His body might not get hot anymore, but he still felt a burn in his cheeks, and the irritating splatter of leaking pipes somewhere behind them wove bands of tension against his skull. He was about to say, “Forget it” and “Screw you.” Two responses he would have no trouble justifying, when the Mother spoke.

  “Again I ask, what can you do?”

  The sound of water almost drowned out the question, and his temper finally gave way. “Well, first I’d fix the leak in your ceiling.” He glanced upwards. “And then I’d put some support beams up before the whole damn place falls down around your ears.”

  “Ja-ack, have we talked about not playing architect when you don’t know the building codes?” Lin’s singsong mutter came with subtle, but insistent pressure of her fingers against his side.

  “Somebody has to set some boundaries.” He turned to the Mother, new resolve strengthening his spine. “I have reason to believe one of the Kin may know the whereabouts of my friend. My ‘human-tribe’ friend.”

  “I accept your assistance, sleepy one.”

  At least she didn’t call him ‘child’ again. Not that ‘sleepy one’ was much better. “Umm, good. Great. Now about my friend—”

  “The humble Kin do not know ‘one.’ They do not understand one being as sovereign. It is no more in their nature than it is for a blizzard to believe it is a gathering of snowflakes.” The Mother sighed. “See? As a motherless babe that does not know his toes are his own.”

  The reflexive glance down at his feet revealed his familiar shoes, and the toes inside them, which were cold enough for him to know they were his. And that he was standing right there in them while the Mother mocked his ignorance.

  “Ma’am, not to be disrespectful, but we need to find our friend. In return, Jack will honor his commitment to fix your leaky ceiling. That is how things work around here, isn’t it? An even trade? An assist for an assist?”

  “What, exactly, do you think you’re doing?” Jack tore his attention away from the giant woman to focus on the much smaller one about to make an outsized mistake.

  “I’m getting us our information.”

  The Mother tilted her head to the side and eyed Lin. “Acceptable. A bargain has been made. A trade for a trade. Human-tribe resides where even I cannot invade.”

  “Oh, god, not rhymes again.” He smacked his forehead.

  “God-dess.” Lin elbowed him. “I recognize one when I see her. Her.” She put the capital emphasis on the word.

  “I have given you all you need to understand.” The Mother turned her head away from them. “Now begone. I have had enough of stumbling children.”

  With her last words ending on a sigh, the light in the place went to a weak gray, twilight in a lonely, cold place.

  ~*~

  “Jack, let’s please go now.” Lin turned her face to his and he saw in her expression the same thing he was starting to feel—an emotional suction in his midsection. The bleak grayness surrounded them as suddenly as a sackcloth of ashen fabric dropped over their heads.

  Around them, shadows stretched and shifted and Jack tensed. Unlike the other Oddlings, these creatures defied direct sight, but he knew they were there. “Little guy?” When the escort didn’t reply, he raised his voice. “Frostling-tribe! Where’d you go?”

  “Majesty!” His blue skin made him appear little more than a smudge through the gloom as he darted to Jack’s side and affixed himself to his pant leg with a death grip. “Th-this one s-serves!” His tone betrayed his words. Clearly, he’d rather be serving far away from here.

  “What’s going on? Why can’t we see?” He fumbled, and found Lin’s hand. Her fingers felt weak in his.

  “Majesty must know Grayling-tribe.”

  The magic of keywords granted him the knowledge he’d asked for. “Graylings are the dark side of Winter. Hunger, depression.” The despair that gave the holiday season one of the highest suicide rates of the year, the hollow hunger felt by an agrarian society when the harvests ran out. The fitful, smoky emissions of a failing fire while the wolves crept closer in the dark.

  “I’m feeling more than a little depressed.” Lin’s wide eyes nearly swallowed him in her darkness.

  He tugged her towards the entryway. “Come on!”

  The Graylings left them alone once they passed out of Iceberghaal and into the snowfields again. Lin’s teeth chattered as he pulled her into his arms, feeling every bit of the narrow escape they’d just survived. Along with the knowledge he’d wanted, though, came the knowledge he didn’t want. Graylings fed on seasonal depression. And just like Chillsprites and Frostlings, he was their king, too.

  Though his body provided no real heat, she wrapped herself around him anyway. They ducked under the slide and were back in the inflatable snow castle, surrounded by bins and shoes and the chatter of people and the snap of fitful wind against inflated ripstop nylon. He sighed, a completely mundane despair settling over him, and rested his chin on the top of her head. “Well. That ended badly.”

  ~*~

  It took her too long to shake off the depression from the Winterlands. They returned their skates in silence, and even the clueless teenager working the skate rental gave her a sympathetic, ‘Sorry you’re fighting with your boyfriend on Christmas Eve’ look.

  Too many thoughts about too many subjects swirled in her mind to make talk possible, so they made their way in silence out of the inflatable castle, through the square—and it hit her, now, with full force, where the disconnect in the Winterlands came from—and to the trolley stop.

  It wasn’t until they boarded the trolley that Jack cleared his throat. “The rhymes meant something, I’m sure of it.”

  Grateful for something to move her out from under the weight of the dark side of winter, Lin pounced. “Anything that powerful doesn’t have to rhyme if she doesn’t want to.”

  “And the Chillsprites don’t rhyme, so they don’t have to. They barely make sense, either, but I think that might just be them.” He glanced at her. “I don’t have to rhyme.” He sighed and shook his head. �
��I think we got ripped off in that bargain. I’m going to be doing construction work for a week, just so she can tell me Shane wasn’t in the Winterlands.”

  Lin shook her head. “If I know my spirit-world, they have to give you the answer you seek. They just don’t have to make it easy for you to understand. This is our stop.” She stood as the trolley pulled up to the little shelter. “I parked my car here. We can take it to Starla’s.” She found her keys at the bottom of her purse and pulled them out.

  Jack rose with her. “When we come back, you should be able to park closer to my place.” He ducked his head and forced her gaze to his. “That is, if you want to stay.”

  Her mouth went dry. The family in front of them started shuffling bags and coats and grandma’s walker, but the ruckus faded against the rushing sound in her ears. Bells chimed over the sounds of people and the squealing brakes of the trolley and she licked her lips. “I d-don’t have any other p-plans.” Her whole body flushed with the steady intensity coming from his ice-in-sunlight eyes.

  Her mother would expect a Skype call, and she planned to make a similar one to her dad on the west coast, but the differing time zones freed her up until dinner time. Which she’d planned for one. I can easily make it two. God, we went from zero to Christmas together in two-point-five days. The ‘This can’t be happening’ sensation made her slip one hand in her jeans pocket and pinch herself.

  His mouth curved upward. “Me, neither.”

  The bubble of sensory overload surrounding them popped when someone behind them cleared his throat. Lin blinked, realized the family was at the trolley’s door, and stumbled her way up to the front of the bus.

  Her car was parked in the lot halfway down the block and she needed every step there to regain her composure. She needed the faint odor of exhaust fumes and mildew in the parking garage’s stairwell to ground her, and the reassuring sound of the abbreviated car horn that both reminded her exactly where the car was and unlocked the doors. “I don’t suppose using the Winterlands as a shortcut to get up to Starla’s for dinner is doable?”