The Bite of Winter (International Monster Slayers Book 2)

by Bethany Helwig

  “Sure. What movie, what time, and who else is going?”

  His entire face turns the shade of my hair. “I meant, you and me. You with me.”

  “Yeah, I got that part. And who else is coming with?”

  He runs a hand through the back of his hair and I frown at him, trying to figure out what his problem is. It takes me a moment before it clicks in my head. He’s asking me on a date. Duh. Now my face flushes and I panic.

  “I think I hear Jefferson calling me,” I say in a rush and start jogging away. “Gotta go!”

  Ben remains where he is as I flee. I’m such an idiot. Jefferson is already onto his second probation ring check when I slide to a stop next to him. Matt Jones keeps his hand steady for the check and gives me a curt nod—yet another werewolf that almost bit me. He’s also the boy I punched on my first day at Moose Lake High School. Then he later tried to hit on me. Our standing relationship hasn’t exactly been friendly and we tend to avoid each other to prevent awkward conversations. As soon as Jefferson gives him the okay, Matt hurries away.

  “What’s with you?” Jefferson says and gives me a once over.

  “Nothing,” I say a bit shrill, so I clear my throat. “Nothing at all. I’m as fantastic as a unicorn on a rainbow.”

  He raises an eyebrow. “You realize that’s not a good thing, right? Unicorns hate rainbows.”

  “Oh, I know.”

  His eyes dart over my shoulder to Ben skulking away into the farmhouse. “What did you do now? Break that kid’s heart?”

  I lean back in shock. “What?”

  “Don’t play coy. That boy’s been trying to hold your hand since you got to town.” He shakes his head and studies some data on his scanner before continuing to mutter, “The number of times I’ve had to listen to Ashley fawn over his looks during your stupid werewolf Olympics . . .”

  “Well, I ran away.”

  At that, he throws his head back and laughs. Something must occur to him, though, because he quickly stops and gives me a piercing stare. “He asked you out and you just ran?”

  “I panicked!”

  “You’ve faced down a berserker, a shapeshifter, a pack of werewolves, a deranged psychopath, and now you run? Mrs. Ferguson’s going to filet you alive. And she was finally starting to be nice to all of us.”

  I throw up my hands. “What was I supposed to do?”

  “How about not run away? You could have just said no.” He pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “Okay, I’m probably going to regret asking this, but have you ever been in a relationship before? Aren’t you teenagers always dating someone?”

  Out of nowhere Hawk appears and throws his arm around my shoulders. “You kidding? Fifi here’s never been on a date, unless you count that centaur from Ireland—”

  I shove him away. “Shut up! That wasn’t a date!”

  He gives a bark of a laugh. “Well, what would you classify a night at the movies and dinner as?”

  “A free movie ticket and free food,” I say flatly. “I couldn’t pass that up. And I’m not the one that kissed a water sprite—”

  “You dared me to!”

  Jefferson lets out a disgusted noise and starts to walk away. We jog after him to keep up and enter the farmhouse together. Hawk punches my shoulder and flees further into the house before I can hit him back. I lose him near the stairs as he slips between the werewolves crowded inside the house. Annoyed, I get back to work and move clockwise through the house scanning everyone with a ring on, which is just about every werewolf inside. After the fiasco with Dasc, the IMS wanted to keep a closer eye on those exposed to his powers of persuasion just to make sure there weren’t any aftereffects. So far that doesn’t seem to be the case.

  When I turn a corner and bump into Jason, my hand instantly reaches around to the back of my waistband before the jolt of panic subsides. I let my hand slide off the handle of my mother’s gun that I always carry now, and try to pass off the motion as if it was nothing. It’s a reaction I don’t seem to be able to control. Sure, Jason bit me but he wasn’t in control then. He also attacked people at a high school dance while under Dasc’s persuasion, but so did a lot of other people. He’s the only one I react to like this, though.

  I even out my breathing and urge my heart to stop racing. It’s just Jason and just a stupid reaction. I force myself to look him in the eye. He’s pale and seems to be getting paler all the time. Shadows paint the underside of his eyes and I swear he’s wearing eyeliner to match his black wrist cuffs and shirt. I haven’t really spoken to him since we bagged Dasc and no words come to mind now. Jason must feel the same because he doesn’t say a word either.

  Fortunately, Hawk materializes beside me and takes the scanner out of my hands. He gives me a knowing smile and nods, giving me the okay to leave the awkward encounter.

  “Hey, Jason, time for your checkup,” Hawk says and nudges me with his elbow so I back away and turn down the hall so I don’t have to deal with Jason. Every time I do my probation rounds Hawk comes to my rescue and deals with Jason himself. He’s been keeping a close eye on him ever since Jason bit me. I’m thankful for it.

  A minute later, Hawk turns the corner and passes the scanner back with that same smile before slipping away to talk with some of his other friends. I heave a sigh and continue on, trying to clear the frustration from my mind.

  I enter the living room where Mrs. Ferguson and Mr. Wick are watching the evening news. Some report about ships missing off the east coast has them glued to the screen. I knock lightly on the side of the television to get their attention and hold up the scanner.

  Mrs. Ferguson gives a little dignified huff and her short curly hair wiggles side to side. She holds out her hand like a princess waiting for a knight to kiss the back of her hand. I try not to cringe as I scan the ring on her finger.

  Trying to make polite conversation, I say, “You did some great goalie work out there today. Nice save against Matt earlier.”

  “Hmph. I still wasn’t good enough to stop your brother.” She lifts her chin.

  “We’ll have to work on that,” I say and scan through her data quickly. “He’s going to float away in a high wind if we don’t deflate his ego.”

  “I appreciate all that you and your brother have done for my son. Truly.”

  For the first time she gives me a real, full on smile. My face flushes again. I appreciate the high praise but I can only imagine what her temper will be once she finds out I ran away from Ben, even though I’m sure I didn’t “break his heart.” He’ll be fine, but Mrs. Ferguson’s fury when it comes to someone messing with her son is terrifying.

  “Thanks, Mrs. Ferguson. We do our best.”

  Just then Hawk reappears with an entourage. “Where’s the food? I thought Ashley was supposed to be back an hour ago.”

  I shrug and walk casually over. “I’m sure she just got caught up shopping in Duluth. She’s probably on her way back now.” I’m only a foot away and while his guard’s down I slug him in the shoulder. He topples to the side from the force of the blow and falls into a tangle on the sofa. I race back out of the house as fast as I can, laughing the whole way. I just manage to make it outside when he tackles me to the ground from behind. I throw out my hands and catch myself before I face plant in the snow.

  “Truce! Truce!” I shout. Hawk’s laughing and I’m laughing and a few others gather at the door cheering us on to fight. My brother tries to kick out the back of my knees to make me crumple. I go down on one knee, grab his arms, and yank us both hard to the side. We fall into the snow but I roll onto my stomach faster than he can get up and push a handful of snow into his face.

  I jump away and shout, “Winner!”

  A sweeping bow to the crowd gets everyone laughing, but then I get a big wet snowball to the back of the head and almost fall over again. Hawk caws and starts to charge again when Jefferson pushes his way through the crowd and gives us the stink eye.

  “Come on, Phoenix,” he
growls. “We should get moving.”

  “All right, I’m coming, I’m coming.” I evade Hawk’s attempt to give me a noogie and trot after Jefferson to our black SUV covered in road salt.

  “Have fun!” I shout over my shoulder. Hawk waves and disappears back inside with the others. Jefferson tosses the keys to me over the hood of the SUV and I catch them lightly before sliding into the driver’s seat.

  “Don’t crash,” Jefferson says, the same thing he says to me every time I drive, ever since his old truck turned into a wreck. I never say I wrecked it because it really wasn’t my fault. I can blame that one on Dasc—one in a very long list—for sending a werewolf with a semi to turn me into roadkill.

  The playfulness bleeds out of my bones and I change into a different person driving back to the Moose Lake Field Office. I don’t let Hawk see this part of me. I can be regular old me with my brother but there’s a dark shadow of a person in me now ever since I emptied a clip of bullets into a man’s chest. Yes, he was a werewolf, the worst there is, but at that moment he was just a man. I shot to kill. I meant to kill him. Only Dasc, the first of all werewolves, could have managed to survive that many bullets coated in wolfsbane. It scares me what I did. Part of me is glad that it didn’t work and he survived. The other part of me—well . . .

  Jefferson knows. He’s always known. He’s always had that dark part, the void left in place of his family. He understands. He would have pulled that trigger a thousand times, and he’s told me that, too, when he’s found me sitting alone in the middle of the night cleaning my mother’s gun, as if I could clean the shots I fired from my memory. You stopped a monster, he says. You saved an entire city. Then why do my hands shake when I hold a gun? I need to make it all worth it. I need to get answers from Dasc.

  We make it home and I park outside the cabin. Together we trek through the half-foot of snow to the barn and Jefferson turns on the lights. The Green Monster remains dormant under its tarp to protect it from the salt and snow on the roads, like a bear in hibernation until spring comes. I move past it and take the stairs two at a time to the loft.

  It’s hard to remember when there were only bookshelves, a map on the wall, and a rough table. After our successful capture of Dasc, the IMS was in a generous mood and gave us a major technology overhaul. Jefferson finally insulated the walls, brought the electrical up to code, and then the IMS technicians came. The map of Moose Lake is now rolled up and gathering dust in a corner. In its place on the wall is a list of all those people still missing—Jefferson’s daughter is at the top and not far below is Deputy Graham’s sister. Next to that is a weapon rack, an ammo cache, and a mounted television. Jefferson turns the TV on to a news feed for background noise before settling in front of one of our two computers.

  I take the swivel chair next to him at the other computer setup with two widescreen monitors. After logging into the IMS remote servers, I upload the probation ring data we collected at the farmhouse before moving on to what I really want to see. Witty’s been emailing me constantly—because I harass him if he doesn’t—with updates on Dasc’s condition and ongoing interrogation. Today’s email is thin with the same line he’s been repeating for the last four weeks.

  “Any change?” Jefferson asks, leaning back in his chair to see my screens.

  I read off Witty’s message in a dry monotone. “Dasc is nearly recovered. Still refusing to talk. Will send another update in a few days.”

  “So another boatload of nothing.”

  “Yup. There’s a P.S., though.”

  “Yeah?” Jefferson’s eyes widen hopefully.

  “Says, No, you still can’t come see him. Stop asking. Real charmer, that Witty.”

  He sighs and raps his fingers on the arms of his swivel chair. “I guess we can’t blame them for not letting us interrogate him ourselves. You tried to kill him. I would kill him.”

  “But answers first, right?”

  “Right. Then I’d kill him.”

  We say it casually like we’re discussing the weather or what we want for supper. We come off like we’re joking but we’re really not. I run a hand through my hair that’s damp thanks to Hawk.

  “Anything interesting in the feeds?” I ask to change the subject.

  He shrugs and clicks through a few browser windows. “Not really, just some gossip from one of the teams afloat that got information on a possible leviathan sighting.”

  That certainly catches my attention. “Really?”

  “Don’t get so excited,” he grouses. “They’re baseless rumors. All the leviathans and a lot of other monsters died out hundreds of years ago, but every now and then people will claim they saw one of the old favorites. There was a story just last month where a senile retired agent claimed he saw a lamia—you know, one of those serpent-lady-demon-things—consorting with Big Foot in the sewers of Paris.”

  “Did they ever figure out what he really saw?”

  “Turns out it was a regular human girl meeting up with a really hairy guy. And that leviathan sighting? It was probably a whale.”

  “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

  He gives me a sharp look. “Trust me, you wouldn’t want those rumors to be true.”

  I shrug my shoulders and stand when my stomach rumbles.

  “You want anything from the fridge?” I ask.

  He shakes his head and starts typing away, intensely focused on his task. I know what he’s doing but I don’t say a word. Instead, I take the stairs and move into the cabin. The stacks of paper that once flooded the place are gone. The dinosaur of a computer that used to sit on the table is now a burned out hull on Jefferson’s makeshift gun range. Once we had gotten the new computer equipment, we celebrated by smashing the old one to pieces and roasting marshmallows over the fire we set inside its corpse. That was a fun night. The kitchen is clean and tidy nowadays—thanks to yours truly.

  I open the fridge and absently scan what’s available. The beer bottles have been replaced with 12-packs of Dr. Pepper. Jefferson stopped drinking once Dasc was in custody and has been sober ever since. Soda and coffee fuel our work these days. I start inspecting a foam container of venison—the staple of our field office—when my phone buzzes in my pocket.

  When I pull it out, Hawk’s cross-eyed mug displays on my phone.

  “Miss me already?” I say by way of greeting.

  “Have you heard anything from Ashley?” he asks.

  “She still hasn’t shown up?”

  “No, and she won’t pick up for me. Maybe you’ll have better luck.”

  I frown. “That’s not like her. I’ll give her a ring.”

  He hangs up and I dial Ashley’s number, listening to it ring while I pick out my dinner. Eventually I get her voicemail. That’s odd. She’s normally glued to her phone and hates missing out on parties. For her to not show up is unthinkable. I dial again and then a third time until the line is finally picked up.

  “Hello?” It’s an unfamiliar male voice. “To whom am I speaking?”

  Instantly suspicious and on the defensive, I say, “I could ask you the same thing.”

  “You came up as the I.C.E. contact when you called.” There’s a moment of silence. What, is he letting that sink in or something? Who the pixies is this? “Nosce te ipsum.”

  My training kicks in and the dinner I’ve picked out is quickly forgotten. Nosce te ipsum is the Latin code phrase used when IMS agents are trying to identify each other. It means “know thyself.” The only reason this guy would know I’m an agent is if he knows Ashley is a werewolf because all werewolves must have an agent listed as their “in case of emergency” contact. But how would he know Ashley is a werewolf, unless . . . she transformed in front of him?

  I respond with the appropriate phrase. “Timendi causa est nescire.” Ignorance is the cause of fear.

  “This is Junior Agent Charlie Jaeger,” the male voice says. “We have your friend here in custody.”

  Oh, crap.

  Chapter 2

&nb
sp; “Come again?” I say. “In custody? What’s going on? Where is she? Is she okay?”

  His irritated sigh issues through the phone. “Can I get your name?”

  “Junior Agent Phoenix Mason. Moose Lake Field Office. Now, where is Ashley and what’s going on?” My brain goes into overdrive. If Ashley has been taken into custody by other IMS agents, she must have done something seriously wrong. She was just supposed to be getting food for the party after shopping in Duluth. What kind of mess has she gotten herself into?

  “Can I speak to your supervising agent?” the junior agent asks.

  My anger is quick to flare. “How about I speak to your supervising agent. What field office are you with?”

  “The one that doesn’t care for conservations going in circles,” he says dryly. A woman’s voice reprimands him in the background, there’s some shuffling, protests from the junior agent, and eventually a female comes on the line.

  “Sorry about him. I’m the supervising agent for the Duluth Field Office.” She has a distinct British accent that I’m not expecting. “We’ve got your girl in our office but she’s not calming down. Maybe if she sees a familiar face she’ll consent to transforming back. I’d rather not hit her with a bio-mech pulse or tranquilizer if I can help it.”

  “She wolfed out?” I clap a hand to my forehead.

  “And ran like a lost husky through Canal Park during a busy shopping hour. Spare some time to come down here?”

  Ashley was out in the open in wolf form during daylight in a populated area? This is bad. This is very bad.

  “Of course,” I say quickly. “We’ll head up straight away.”

  “Ta!” she says and hangs up.

  I stare at the phone a moment before running out to the barn. Jefferson is watching his computer screen intently but turns it off as soon as he sees me. There must be something of panic in my face because he practically launches out of his chair.

  “It’s Ashley,” I say before he can ask what’s wrong. “We’ve got a problem.”

  The second I finish relaying what I was told, Jefferson throws on his jacket and hustles down the stairs. We hop into the SUV, Jefferson takes the wheel, guns it, and I dial Hawk. He picks up on the first ring.