The Bite of Winter (International Monster Slayers Book 2)

by Bethany Helwig

  An intersection looms ahead with red lights glaring in our direction.

  “Look out!”

  The Mustang swings through cross traffic and blazes up the road, continuing to ascend the hill. My heart is in my throat as Charlie swerves into the intersection after it. A bus tries to go through on its green light bearing down on us from the left and lurches to a halt not a moment too soon. Our bumper grazes across its grill. Something in the undercarriage screeches as we swing wide on the corner and lose traction for a moment on an ice patch. I instinctively brace both hands against the dash this time.

  We crest one block, the streets rising sharply, and I realize this is a really, really bad time for a car chase. There are cars everywhere, not to mention snow and ice and an increasing grade. The Mustang is still fighting for freedom, though. It runs through a four-way stop, slides left, then keeps on until it hits a major roadway going straight up the hill. Charlie manages to stay on it and even gains ground as the Mustang struggles against the steep grade.

  I’m trying to breathe normally as we weave in and out of cars moving at the 30 mph speed limit. We’re easily breaking sixty here. Memories of my car crash three months ago surface and I swallow back that dread. The road quickly curves and the hill drops away on the right leaving nothing between us and a nasty drop but a guardrail. I see eye to eye with the tops of buildings at this height. I hold onto the door’s armrest for dear life and hope beyond hope that Charlie passed all of his pursuit certification tests with flying colors.

  The Mustang skims a rusted hatchback in front of us, spinning the car out until it stops, facing us. Our headlights flood over the startled old man clutching onto his steering wheel directly ahead.

  “Fracking crap!” Charlie shouts. He white-knuckles a hard turn and slams on the brakes. We jump the curb of the median and fishtail into oncoming traffic on the other side of the roadway to avoid hitting the hatchback.

  Of course, to make matters worse, a bunch of cars just cleared from an intersection ahead of us and stream down, honking their horns and jamming their brakes on the slippery road. Charlie guns it again and sends us flying back over the raised median, each of us really testing the durability of our seat belts, and weaves into the right flow of traffic. The Mustang has already cleared the next intersection and slows only enough to cross oncoming traffic and take an even more steeply inclined street, always moving uphill.

  The SUV uses all of its horsepower to floor through the green light, slide into the turn lane, and barely avoid getting struck by a truck coming down the hill. My ribs hurt and I don’t know if it’s from how hard my heart is pounding or from being thrown against the seat belt.

  We almost hit a road sign that says Skyline Parkway and Charlie shouts something unintelligible, or he’s just primal screaming. I can’t tell. I think I lost all of my screams somewhere three roads behind us.

  Good news, there’s hardly any traffic on this road. Bad news, Skyline Parkway lives up to its name. Once we clear a block or two, the hillside drops sharply a few feet past the edge of the pavement and opens to nothing but sky. At least we’re on the right side of the road and have a lane between us and certain death. Oh, and it’s not as well treated as the other roads we’ve been on. We really start to slide and the Mustang comes close to driving right off the edge of the world. Twice. The vampire finally decides that’s a good reason to slow down and we come up close on his bumper.

  Trying to hit him and spin him out would probably spin us out over the hill too, ending in all of us dying. Our headlights spill into the back of the Mustang and I can clearly make out the back of the vampire’s blonde hair. His hood must have fallen off in the middle of driving like a complete maniac.

  “Take the wheel!” Charlie shouts.

  “What?”

  The next second he disappears and the SUV immediately begins to slow and drift towards the other lane. I throw myself over the center console, the seat belt trying to hold me back, and grab the wheel with both hands. Driving is a heck of a lot harder when you can’t reach the pedals and are trying to stop yourself from running off the road. I can hardly catch my breath as I strain against the seat belt but I manage to get the SUV coasting in a straight line temporarily.

  Then I realize the vampire isn’t alone in the Mustang anymore, which begins to slow as well. Charlie managed to port himself directly into the passenger seat and has taken hold of the wheel. I’m still trying to keep the SUV in the right lane while Charlie and the vampire struggle inside the Mustang. Punches are thrown, elbows are engaged in combat, and then a gunshot goes off and the passenger side window of the Mustang is blown out.

  The SUV starts to lose distance and the Mustang speeds away. I can’t tell if Charlie’s been shot or not. Fear wraps its shadowy fingers around my throat and I stare wide-eyed. Then, unexpectedly, Charlie is kneeling in the middle of the roadway directly in front of me.

  I suddenly find I am very much capable of screaming again. The SUV is mere feet away from plowing Charlie over when he’s suddenly back in the driver’s seat, my face an inch away from his chest. I let my seat belt jerk me back over into my seat as Charlie takes the wheel, breathing hard.

  “ARE YOU INSANE?” I scream at him.

  He grimaces and shakes out his right arm. “Yeah, that didn’t go as planned.”

  “You think?!”

  The Mustang pulls ahead and Charlie speeds up to catch him again. We’re driving a fine line between traction and careening to our deaths. The road twists and curves above what I’m sure would be a spectacular view of the city, but I’m trying my very best not to look in that particular direction right now. I still have no idea why the vampire would flee this way, but it was deliberate enough.

  Skyline eventually meets another road, two frozen ponds on either side of us, and we move away from the drop down the hill and into a forested area. The Mustang makes another quick turn into some kind of park.

  “This is a dead end,” Charlie says under his breath. I don’t know if he’s talking to me or himself. “What is he playing at?”

  Sure enough, we round one last bend at full speed and end in a parking lot surrounded by gardens covered in snow and trees rising up on all sides. We untangle ourselves from our seat belts and jump out of the car, clutching onto our flashlights and bio-mech guns. We come up to the Mustang on either side but it’s already empty.

  We turn to the landscape around us. Our flashlights flicker over trees and plants wrapped up in burlap sacks to protect them from winter’s bite. The snow is a gray, mucky mess disturbed by hundreds of footprints.

  We’re both breathing hard and look to each other for what to do next.

  “If he’s packing a gun,” I say, “I don’t think we should split up.”

  “It might make him brave enough to come at us if we do. You take point,” Charlie says and gestures with his flashlight to the gardens. “I’m going up to the tower—”

  “Tower?”

  His face goes flat and he points to a massive tower on the very top of the hill. It’s a great, dark shadow against the black sky looming over the gardens.

  “Enger Tower,” Charlie says. “I can be the lookout. See if you can draw him out and I’ll port right to you. Element of surprise.”

  “But he knows you can port now.”

  “Trust me on this, okay? I know what I’m doing.”

  Before I can tell him again what a stupid plan this is, he jogs up a set of stone steps leading to the tower. It’s an old thing made of thick stone blocks and an impressive steel gate closes off the tower from potential vandals or rampaging teenagers. Charlie shines his light through the bars and then is suddenly on the other side. That’s going to take some getting used to.

  “Just go!” Charlie whispers. “Keep your flashlight on so I can see you and port to you. We’re good, go go.”

  “You’re not the one playing bait,” I mumble.

  He races up the steps into the tower and I turn around to get a good look at the g
ardens. The top of the hill is like an enormous bowl with the middle depression being the parking lot. Then the gardens gradually rise up around it to the lip of the hill and a sharp drop past it. There’s a pavilion straight across from the tower on the other side of the bowl and another on my left with some kind of bell.

  I take a deep breath, rub my sternum that’s throbbing after the abuse from the seat belt, and march down more stone steps into the gardens. The beam of my flashlight bounces across the snow, revealing a hundred different footsteps all mushed together. It must be quite the attraction up here. I’m sure it’d really be something to see in the spring. Right now I’d pick finding the vampire over flowers though.

  The more I think about it, the more stupid Charlie’s plan seems to me. The vampire was running the entire time. He never went after us. Why would he now? I work my way along the paved trail and across some stepping stones towards the pavilion with the bell. Every shadow seems to move around me and I start to feel a little twitchy on the trigger. I don’t want to be out here on my own with a vampire packing a gun. Freakin’ Charlie. I swear, one of these days I’m going to—

  A shadow flickers between the posts of the open pavilion near the bell. I freeze and paint the area with my flashlight. There’s no one there but I’ve got hairs rising on the back of my neck. That’s never a good sign. I creep through a Japanese garden until I reach the pavilion.

  “She’s not here,” a voice whispers in the dark. “She left me alone. She’s not . . .”

  If this guy’s going for the creepy factor, I’d say he’s nailed it. But the voice gives me a direction and I veer toward it. The vampire slips out of the shadows behind one of the posts and shoves something towards me. A solid wood beam collides with the side of my head and I go down to the loud ringing of the giant bell beside me. I hit the ground hard, light bursts in front of my eyes, and I’m stunned. My flashlight rolls away, broken and useless.

  “Mason!” comes Charlie’s distant call. Idiot, now he can’t help me.

  A hand grips my shoulder and starts to half roll me on my side, half haul me up. Hot breath washes over the side of my neck. The vampire doesn’t immediately bite, giving me enough time to gather some of my working senses, and then I feel the cold metal of a gun being pressed to my temple.

  I fling my head backwards and send my arm up at the same time to drive the barrel away from my head. When the shot goes off just a foot from my ear, I lose most of my hearing but not my reflexes. I elbow the vampire in the face and feel his nose crunch under the force. He howls and falls backwards. I rise partway up and slam my bandaged hand down. He scampers away faster than I think possible and instead of hitting him in the chest, I leave cracks in the cement under my fist.

  He scrambles to his feet and opens the distance between us just enough so I can’t reach him in time when he aims his gun again. So I quickly roll backwards. The shot passes right over me and I roll far enough that I fall a few feet into a rock garden. That jars my head again and the world starts to spin. I grimace and fumble with my bio-mech gun. I peek over the ledge of rocks I fell from and find the vampire has turned tail and is running into the darkness of the trees.

  “Stop!” I shout and rise to fire off a series of pulses.

  Unfortunately, I don’t get the opportunity to run after and see if I hit him. Flashing red and blue lights illuminate the garden behind me and men shout at me to get on the ground. I didn’t even hear them come up. I guess that’s what happens when someone fires a gun twice right next to your head.

  Before I do anything else, I activate the safety measures of the bio-mech gun and it morphs into an oval disc in my hand. I slowly turn around, as the eight officers directly behind me are not so politely requesting, and drop to the ground with my face in the snow, knowing I am truly and one-hundred percent screwed.

  Chapter 9

  Getting arrested isn’t fun in any sense of the word. I find myself with a knee in the middle of my back as my hands are brought behind me and cuffed together. The big brawny officer with a crew cut removes his knee from my back and grabs the collar of my jacket to haul me to my feet.

  “Do you have any weapons on you? Anything that’s going to stick me if I search you?” he barks at me. I guess our high-speed pursuit really ticked them off. I can’t blame them—but I can blame Charlie. Where is my backup now, huh? Probably running into the woods. Thanks, Charlie. You’re a big help.

  “I’ve got a machete inside my jacket and a handgun in my waistband, middle of my back. That’s it,” I say, knowing that lying is only going to make things worse at this point. It’s a good thing I already managed to morph the bio-mech gun. It’s sitting harmless on the hood of the officer’s squad in front of me.

  The officer carefully unzips the front of my jacket and pulls out the machete from the inner lining of my jacket. He passes it off to another officer pointing a taser at me. My mother’s gun goes next and my chest constricts as I watch it being passed off to a stranger. My wallet and cellphone are taken after that. I hold still to be patted down and obey all their commands. I’m read my Miranda rights, refuse to give a statement, neither confirm nor deny there was anyone with me, and don’t respond when they ask who I was shooting at.

  “We heard gunshots.”

  Yeah, but not from me. I keep my mouth shut, though. The officer asks if I want medical attention since I’m bleeding but I decline. The less attention I get the better, even though I’m doing a fantastic job so far. The officer starts maneuvering me into a squad car when some of the other officers start shouting and we stop.

  “Get on the ground! On the ground now!”

  “Easy, fellas!” It’s Charlie.

  I spot him at the bottom of the stone steps leading up to the tower. His eyes find me and he holds my gaze as he gets down on his knees with his hands on the back of his head. I can’t believe he gave himself up. I thought for sure he would run off. The officers surround him and push him all the way onto the ground, giving him the same treatment they gave me. After he’s cuffed, they pull him to his feet and haul him over to another squad car near me. He shakes his head to flick snow off his face, the front of his hair smushed up against his forehead and sticking straight up from them pressing his face into the ground.

  They start asking him questions but he interrupts and says, “I’m the driver. You got me. She’s with me.”

  He jerks his head in my direction. While they start to pat him down, I’m put into the back of a squad car on an uncomfortable plastic seat. The brawny officer gets into the front along with his partner. They both toss me cursory glances through the wire mesh and glass separating me from them. The squad rumbles to life and we leave the other squads behind. The last I see of Charlie is him shaking his head, pressed up against a squad getting frisked.

  Nervous energy replaces my adrenaline and my head throbs where I got whacked by what I think was a bell knocker. My chest burns from all the times I was yanked against the seat belt. All that and the stupid vampire still got away. Pixies, what a bad night. At least we managed to find Gillian. That’s got to count for something, right?

  The squad moves carefully along the ice-slick roads, and we return to the main drag to crest the top of the central hill and travel along a flat stretch surrounded by shops, malls, grocery stores, and other outlets. We take a right into a woodsy area and eventually arrive at a large compound of public service facilities and the county jail. Giant floodlights illuminate the face of the gray building and big glossy words above the doors spell out St. Louis County Jail. The squad bypasses the front and moves around to the sally ports. Once we’re inside the garage like entrance and the door is sealed, the officers help me out of the squad car. I clench my hands to keep them from shaking.

  We pass through a couple of doors that need authorization before we end up in the booking room. They have me stand still against a counter as they undo the handcuffs only to cuff me to a metal railing and have me take a seat in a plastic chair that creaks under my
weight. The next ten minutes pass in silence as a sheriff's deputy turns on a video camera and aims it at my face. The arresting officer fills out paperwork at the counter, the only sound the shuffling of pages. My head pounds and the deputy comes over to wipe some blood off my face with gauze and puts a Band-Aid on the side of my forehead where I got smacked. Yeah, I don't think that's going to help much. Ice would be welcome. He mentions getting my head checked quietly to the other officer. There is some whispering and I hope they agree. I would love to get out of here if that means I have to feign a concussion. Actually, I probably do have a concussion.

  The deputy starts talking to me instead. “Phoenix Mason, you have been arrested for possession of a dangerous weapon—”

  Guilty.

  “—possession of a firearm while underage and without a permit—”

  Guilty. If Jefferson finds out, he’ll get mad at me for that one. I’m not supposed to be toting around a handgun until I’m twenty-one, but having my mother’s gun makes me feel safer, less vulnerable.

  “—and we’re looking into reckless discharge of a firearm once your weapon’s been tested.”

  Fantastic.

  I'm read my rights again and I acknowledge that I understand each section as the officer reads them off.

  “You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford one, one will be appointed for you by the state. Do you understand this right?”

  “Yes.”

  “If you wish to speak to an attorney, a phone and directories will be made available to you. Do you wish to speak with an attorney?”

  I try to recall the steps of IMS procedure for getting through this next part. I've kept silent, haven’t said anything to indicate myself, and I've gotten rid of any evidence that would point to supernatural affiliations. I need to contact headquarters to let them know I need an assist.