The Winter King

by Heather Killough-Walden

  Rare, beautiful, and a magical bat out of hell. He smiled to himself as he realized that Poppy Nix possessed the same qualities. It looked like Kristopher preferred his women like he preferred his bikes.

  Something in the group of men to his left in the alley caught his attention again. It was either a sound or a movement, but either way, he hesitated in starting his engine and returned his attention to them.

  The fire in the trash can between them began to flicker and sputter. Then it poofed upward, and a dancing flame erupted at its center, bouncing energetically.

  “Oh! Pardon me! Have any of you seen the Winter King around here anywhere?”

  Kristopher’s eyes widened. Even from his distance, he could hear the rather desperate screeching voice of the young fire elemental.

  The men around the trash can backed up. “A… fire elemental?” one of them asked. It was the vampire. He shied away even more, no doubt out of fear. Fire was one of the few things that could kill a vampire out-right.

  Kristopher dismounted his bike and strode across the street toward the alley. As he neared, the fire elemental continued to spin in place, looking everywhere and speaking non-stop. “I-I’m sorry. I don’t mean to alarm anyone, but I was told Lord Scaul was here somewhere, and I….” He seemed to trail off as the incubus, who was handsome even in his “fallen” state, gave him a dark, wary look. The incubus then raised his head to the stranger that was nearing the end of the alley.

  “No worries, little spark,” said the Nightmare in a deep, beautiful voice, which was typical for his kind. “It looks like your call made it through.” He backed up a few steps now too. Kristopher knew the man could sense his power and that it was the waves of influence rolling off him that had clued the incubus into who exactly he was.

  The three men had cleared the way a good ten feet in all directions by the time Kristopher reached the trash can, and Pi spun to face him.

  “Your majesty!”

  “It’s… Pi, right?” Kris had never dealt with the tiny fire elemental personally, but at this point, his interactions with the kings had become almost legendary. “Don’t you work for Chroi?”

  “Yes, your majesty, however Miss Chantelle sent me to find you. She said you’d be here at this time, which,” the elemental looked around a little and seemed to shrug, “seems to be true. She wanted you to know that there’s been an update on….” He trailed off a bit and gave the three men nearby a distrustful glance.

  Kristopher raised his chin. “I see.” He pulled a lighter from his pocket. Some might have thought it strange for the Winter King to carry a lighter, and perhaps that was exactly why he did it. Because he could and because it was unexpected. He flicked it on. “Hop on and we’ll talk in private.”

  The elemental nodded emphatically and vanished from the center of the trash can. A moment later, the flame at the tip of Kristopher’s lighter began bouncing languidly up and down. Its eyes opened, and the flicker smiled.

  Kristopher nodded both a farewell and silent warning to the three non-humans gathered in the alley, then turned and headed back toward his bike. He could feel their eyes on his back as he left, and he kept his senses alert.

  The snow was forming larger bonds in the air, its flakes growing more substantial. It was beginning to pile on the ground and fill the night with brightness. Kristopher held the lighter close to protect the elemental from the wetness, and when he reached his bike, he glanced once over his shoulder to make certain they were alone.

  The fire elemental waited, a questioning look on his tiny, flickering face. Kris gave him the nod to continue.

  “One of Lady Chantelle’s seers had a vision of a crack in Yggdrasil.”

  “I’m aware of the fracture,” Kris answered, but his forehead furrowed. The fact that the news was spreading was alarming.

  “She’s concerned it might be the Entity,” Pi told him seriously, “Perhaps he is going after your foundations. The other vision the seer had was of a darkness eating away at the base of a building.”

  A darkness eating away at the base of a building? Going after our foundations…. Kristopher said, “She thinks he wants to destroy what we are from the beginning. From the inside.”

  “Yes,” Pi nodded emphatically. “We already know he wants to kill what makes you you. That way you’ll lose your powers and your crowns, and you won’t have time to find your remaining queens.”

  “So he can find them first.”

  Pi nodded-bounced.

  “You can tell Lalura that as far as my queen is concerned, he’s too late on that front. And I’ll be tending to the Tree very soon.”

  Pi bounced an affirmative again, and disappeared from the lighter, killing the fire altogether as he left. A small stream of smoke wafted up from the emptiness, and Kristopher watched it for a half a second before flicking the lighter closed once more and slipping it back into his pocket.

  He mounted his bike, using his powers to hone in on his runaway queen. She’d made it all the way back to her apartment. He was impressed. She hadn’t even used magic to do it, no doubt because she didn’t want to alarm any of the elders or, worse, her best friend. She’d simply run. And in leather-soled boots in the snow, no less.

  Kristopher took a deep breath as he sat back in the saddle and started up the engine. It roared to supernatural life, fueled with far more power than its original engine had been created to exude. It wouldn’t have handled in the snow at all, either, in its original condition. But this was the Winter King’s bike. It could take on a hurricane.

  He revved it a few times, sensing the continued stares of the men in the alley. The incubus, in particular, was afraid Kristopher would bring attention to him with the Nightmare King, but Kris could care less about dealing with other kings’ affairs. The man’s secrets, whatever they were, were safe.

  He pulled the bike out into traffic, weaving with ease. The depth of cars had lightened up a bit since the snow’d begun. Seattle-ites were accustomed to driving in poor weather conditions, given the amount of rain they experienced, and the number one response to such conditions when they turned worse was to simply get off the road. Most of the tarmac now was taken up by the yellow of taxis, followed by the elongated white of buses.

  Kristopher expertly wound around both and mentally steeled himself for what lay ahead. Because he hadn’t been lying to Poppy when he’d told her she wasn’t going anywhere without him. He’d just been turned around a little. The truth was – he wasn’t going anywhere without her.

  Chapter Nine

  The coffee mug that sat on her kitchen counter still full of undrinkably cold coffee read, I wish I were dead. Though the mug had been a gift from a well-meaning friend who knew how much she loathed mornings, most days it wasn’t really true. Poppy actually loved life. She loved being alive, even if that alive feeling often came at the bottom of a cup of Joe.

  However, right now, she was afraid the cup’s wish was going to be granted, whether she wanted it or not. Someone or something out there in the guise of a devastatingly tall and handsome blonde with eyes like ice knew what she was, knew who she was, and had just threatened her in the middle of a downtown Seattle cafe.

  You aren’t going anywhere. Not without me.

  She played his words over and over in her mind as she frantically tossed off her coat, scarf and gloves and reinforced the wards around her apartment. Then she ran into her bedroom, slammed and locked the door, and dialed Lalura on her cell. Lalura’s phone was a landline – of course – but she had ways of answering, even when she wasn’t home.

  Poppy stood in the center of her bedroom and turned in place, eyeing the windows and the door respectively, over and over again, as she waited for the old woman to pick up. But an answer never came, and Lalura never set up any kind of answering machine. It simply wasn’t her thing.

  So Poppy hung up and tried again. And again. It was rudimentary, using a phone, but her mind was spinning, and at the moment it was literally all she could summon the fa
culties to do.

  After several fruitless attempts, she finally threw the phone on the bed and closed her eyes, gripping her head in her hands to think. “Okay. You need to get ahold of someone, anyone, who can help you.”

  But… was that true?

  Maybe she could handle this on her own? Maybe it wasn’t as big a deal as she was making it out to be. Maybe the guy was just some punk supernatural stalker with the ability to detect warlock magic. It was easy enough these days to get someone’s full name – that took little to no effort at all. And warlock magic was the most readily noticeable form of magic, due to its inherent darkness. Maybe this guy wasn’t worth getting everyone all worked up over, especially with all they already had to deal with.

  But he knew about the Entity. And about Violet.

  “Come on, Poppy, think.” She’d already double and triple-warded the apartment, which might even alert someone to her use of magic, and that wouldn’t be a bad thing at this point. So, she had that. But that was all she had.

  “Okay. Sorry, Vi.” She picked back up the phone and dialed her friend, and as she did, she wiped her brow with the back of her long sleeve, and it came away damp. She must be really, really nervous. There was no other explanation, because she’d only been in the apartment a few minutes, and she was already sweating. She never kept the apartment warm, so it couldn’t have been any hotter than about sixty degrees inside.

  She frowned to herself as the phone continued to ring. No answer. Her head was beginning to ache again. The call went to voice mail. Poppy took a deep breath. “Vi, I’m so sorry to bother you right now, I know you’re probably off drinking champagne in the tub with Mr. McShadow, but… by the way, what do shadows look like naked? Do they have belly buttons?”

  Oh my God. Focus, Pop!

  “I mean – I’m sorry.” Her head really was starting to hurt. It was just too hot. “I just wanted to tell you….” What did she want to say? She was having trouble forming the right words. “Um, there’s this guy and he knows who you are and about the Entity and that I’m a warlock and he kind of threatened me just now, if you can call telling someone they can’t go anywhere without them a threat. I mean, I don’t know. Maybe these days that’s what they call flirting or something? Guys are always clueless, so it’s possible. But, so I just….”

  Jesus, Poppy.

  “Okay, I just wanted to give you a heads up.”

  Because I’m a scaredy-cat.

  She hung up and placed her hand to her forehead. She was burning up. In frustration, she turned and marched to the thermostat against her bedroom wall. It read 92 degrees.

  “What?” She stared at it with wide eyes.

  But with the way she was sweating into her clothes just then, she could believe it. She just also couldn’t believe it. The heater wasn’t on, and it was below freezing outside. In fact, as she turned and glanced at the window, she could see big, fat flakes filling the night sky. It was beautiful.

  “What the hell?” she hissed as she strode to that same window, unlatched it, and threw it open. Cold, bracing air slammed into her face, and it felt wonderful. She closed her eyes for just a moment, enjoying the sheer pleasure of a fevered forehead suddenly, miraculously cooled.

  Then she opened her eyes again and looked down.

  The man from the coffee shop – Kristopher – stood with his arms crossed over his broad chest, leaning against a magnificent motorcycle, his glacial eyes a visible, piercing blue even from this distance. They gazed steadily upward, spearing her to the core.

  He’s doing this. She didn’t know how she knew, and she wasn’t sure why she was so positive, but she just knew he was the one making the apartment hot. He’s smoking me out.

  She glared at him. He smiled.

  He was pretty smoking hot himself.

  Crap. But that didn’t matter! It certainly wasn’t enough to see her surrender. Her gaze narrowed stubbornly on the man. She did possess the means to fight back. And right about now, she was more than prepared to use them.

  “Fine,” she said softly, somehow also knowing that he would hear her despite the distance. “Two can play at this game.”

  His smile only widened, and his broad, sculpted chest moved in a chuckle. Poppy growled and spun away from the window, summoning her warlock magic to the fore. She closed her eyes and imagined a plane of ice, her first instinct to use a spell to cool off the apartment. She had things in it, after all, that would melt if it got much hotter.

  But then something else occurred to her. If she continued to put Band-Aids on whatever he did to her, he would just keep attacking, striking on different fronts, and she would run out of magic protecting herself one spell after another. If she remained on the defensive, eventually she would become defenseless, and he would win. She needed a better plan.

  In a blade-to-blade struggle on the battleground, what better way was there to deal with an enemy than to stop shielding and start swinging your sword? The best defense was a good offense, right?

  Right.

  She smiled as she at once decided what to do, and the image in her mind shifted from a plane of ice – to a motorcycle. One exactly like the beautiful bike “Kristopher” was leaning against across the street at that very moment in time.

  “I’m honestly sorry,” she whispered, speaking to the bike. Then she cast her spell.

  Chapter Ten

  Kristopher’s smile slowly slipped, and his gaze narrowed. The look of stubborn determination on Poppy’s face hadn’t exactly been conducive to him getting his way in a timely manner. His senses went on high alert, and he straightened, coming off the bike.

  As soon as he did, he felt the spike of dark magic shoot past him like invisible lightning and slam into his motorcycle. He spun, naturally reaching out with his arms as if to steady the bike. But it didn’t fall over. Instead, it stayed right where it was – and began leaking.

  Kristopher knelt down to get a closer look. It wasn’t oil that was leaking. The interior of the engine had been liquidated and was slowly dripping down the sides of the bike to gather in a puddle that looked like mercury.

  The girl had actually changed the molecular structure of the metal. Did she realize how powerful you had to be in order to do that? That wasn’t simple magic, not by any means. Kristopher’s wonder over Poppy’s innate magical abilities was enough to take just a touch of sting out of the prospect of losing his bike.

  But only a touch.

  It wasn’t that he couldn’t fix it. It was that doing so would require working around her magic, and from the feel of it, that would be no easy feat. She was certainly queen material.

  Slowly, he straightened, heart pounding, teeth clenched, every muscle in his body tensing as if for a fight. He turned back around to face the complex housing Poppy’s apartment, his mind working fast. He had to admit that the shock of seeing his bike destroyed had interrupted his concentration on heating up her place. No doubt, the temperature had rapidly plummeted once more, and he was betting she’d turned the AC on.

  He was going to have to go in and get her.

  Kristopher gritted his teeth. “Fuck it,” he said as he transported from right there in front of his bike to the hallway just outside her apartment. He stopped for a moment and stared at the door before realizing that he hadn’t meant to transport into the hall at all. He’d meant to wind up in her living room.

  It’s warded, he thought. Clever girl. He had to smile at that. You could never be too careful in this world.

  But then he remembered what she’d done to his bike. His eyes narrowed, taking on a glacial glow. I can get past a few wards.

  A full two minutes later, Kristopher finally managed to bypass them, feeling them slide open with a nearly audible click. The door was still locked with a human lock and two deadbolts. Those slid back next with another push of magic, and the door slowly swung open. He took a step back, eyeing the space beyond with wary care.

  Then he strode through the front door and into her living room to
find the apartment empty. Silence filled the room, made stronger by the muffling power of the snow piling up outside. He caught a hint of some delicate, clean scent – shampoo, probably. The refrigerator hummed to life, snapping his head to the side. Someone suddenly squealed outside; children throwing snowballs in the night.

  But there was no sign of Poppy. Traces of transport magic filled in the shadowy spaces in the corners and recesses of the apartment. She’d used his distraction to give him the slip.

  “For the love of –” he cut himself off with a curse and threw up his hands as if he were dealing with a crazy woman. Then he ran a hand over his face and sent out feelers of magic to trace her progress.

  Latching on to her signature was nearly as difficult as it had been to get past her layered wards. She’d gone to the trouble of crisscrossing her path, which had the same confusing effect that footprints in the snow headed in different directions would have.

  But he focused, concentrated, and zeroed in on the set of footprints that was the lightest. She’d want to leave the least bit of trail. She wasn’t stupid.

  By the time he locked on to her, he knew she would be at least another transport away, and he was beginning to realize that his queen was more than his match. He felt stupid for underestimating her.

  He was going to have to up his game.

  *****

  She’d sensed a change just before finishing her complicated transport spell. The air in the room felt cooler. It was either the air conditioner, or she’d managed to distract “Kristopher” with her spell after all. She still felt bad about the bike… but desperate times and all that.

  Now, she was four portals away and still moving at the speed of light through different dimensions, crisscrossing her path as she went. She was not only hoping it would slow her pursuer down, but that the obtuse use of magic would draw the attention she was normally hoping to avoid. It was like someone who desperately needed a cop choosing to go over the speed limit on purpose for once just to get one to follow them.