As I watch him smooth the tape into place, I consider that my day started out interrogating a powerful monster, moved on to rescuing a kidnapped selkie, and ended with—and I might be biased on this last part—a pretty epic car chase. I can label it as that now that I’m not in the middle of it hoping I don’t die. And here I am, helping a guy I thought I’d sworn to loath. I wouldn’t say we exactly get along, there’s definitely room for improvement in that department, but I’ve found there’s at least one thing we agree on—getting into reckless situations to save other people.
“Thanks, Doctor Mason medicine woman,” he says and offers me a real smile this time. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to change into something without my blood on it and I’ll meet you in the garage.”
Chapter 10
Jefferson isn’t exactly thrilled when I show up with Charlie.
“We’re picking up strays now?” he grumbles. “Where are we supposed to put you? And what in the world happened to you?” He points to my forehead.
“Oh, it was nothing really,” I say casually.
“It was your usual night,” Charlie cuts in, slinging his military duffle bag over his shoulder. “Pretty low key. Searched through some buildings, located someone in a warehouse, drove the pursuit vehicle around a bit. I’m sure Agent Boyd will be able to fill in the blanks with a lot of yelling and angry insinuations about our state of mind.”
I hide my smile behind my hand and pretend to find something rather interesting on the kitchen counter. Okay, I’ll admit it. Charlie is kind of funny when he’s not being an angry jerk. I’m not going to tell him that though.
“You aren’t related to dumb and dumber are you?” Jefferson growls, jabbing his thumb over his shoulder at me. “You talk just like the wonder twins.”
“I don’t think my hair’s quite red enough to fit in,” he says and shrugs. “And I can crash wherever. I’m used to uncomfortable living situations.”
“Yeah, and I’m living in one right now,” Jefferson mutters under his breath. “You can take the cot in the loft.” He turns to raise his eyebrows at me and I get the hint.
“I’ll show you,” I say and escort Charlie out to the barn.
When I flick on the lights inside he stops to take in his surroundings.
“Wow. Very rustic,” he says. “I kind of like it.”
“You probably won’t like it so much when you wake up shivering.” We climb the steps to the loft and I gesture to the cot before taking a seat at my computer.
“I’ve had worse.” He tosses his duffle onto the cot and shrugs out of his overcoat. He’s changed into a blue long sleeved shirt. It’s simple but he still manages to make everything he wears look fashion forward. I remain tucked inside my parka, pulling it closer around myself before logging into my computer.
“Try sleeping in an igloo up in Canada for a week,” he continues. “Hunting a rampaging Jotunn isn’t as glamorous as it sounds.”
That certainly catches my attention. Part of me wants to be indifferent to Charlie but, dang it, I’m curious.
“You were hunting a frost giant? In Canada?”
He walks around the edge of the room, surveys the boxes on the shelves, runs a hand over the ammo cache, and slowly comes around to the opposite side of my computer.
“Yeah, it had come over from Scandinavia on an ice breaker.” He rests a forearm along the top of my monitor, making it wiggle under his weight. “I went along with my uncle to hunt it after it killed a bunch of kids way up north.”
We’re back to the topic of his uncle and one I’m keenly interested in asking him about. He seemed pretty upset about being compared to his uncle earlier.
“Your uncle?” I ask innocently.
His eyes bore into me. I’m pretty sure my curiosity is blatantly obvious. His cheek presses out as he rolls his tongue around inside his mouth, clearly hesitant to say anymore.
“Look, I don’t want to be on bad terms,” he says. “If I’m going to be here for a little while I’d rather not have to worry about getting into rows frequently. So, I might as well tell you now that talking about my uncle makes me . . . testy.”
“Okay . . .” Interesting. “Am I allowed to ask about your parents? Do you have any other family?”
“Why?”
“Why not?”
He sighs and rolls up the sleeves of his shirt even though it’s probably only fifty-five degrees in here. In doing so he reveals a leather bracelet on his wrist clasped with a steel link. He walks around the desk and holds out his arm so I can see it properly. The steel link has words etched into it—Illis quos amo deserviam.
“It’s Latin,” he says. “It means—”
“For those I love I will sacrifice.”
He slowly withdraws his wrist and crosses his arms over his chest. “Well, let me guess who was teacher’s pet in Latin class.”
“Old Man Two—a centaur I know in Underground—wouldn’t let me work in his restaurant unless I could carry a conversation in Latin with him,” I say offhand, my eyes still on the bracelet. “Who gave it to you?”
He spins it absently around his wrist. “My mother gave it to my father before he died. It’s the last thing I have of either of them.”
“So they’re both—”
“Dead.” He says it matter-of-factly. I guess I do the same thing, too, when I’m asked the question. It must have happened when he was a kid. You get used to the question being asked so many times and giving the same answer over and over again that it becomes ingrained. It’s just a word now, a fact of life, one that still hurts physically inside but there’s no point in getting worked up over acknowledging the fact anymore.
“Really, Mason, do you know of any Blessed that has family left?” He squints one eye and looks up at the ceiling in thought. “Well, any family that matters anymore? I don’t count my uncle.”
“That’s a pity.”
“No, it’s really not.” There’s that look in his eye again, that dangerous alter ego when he’s pressed.
“I’ve got my brother,” I counter.
“Which, in all honesty, is a freak occurrence. Every other Tom, Dick, and Harry I know that’s been slapped with a little dragon magic has lost their parents, their guardians, their siblings, their extended family. We’re all loners in the end. Loners with superpowers.”
He laughs darkly under his breath and moves back to the cot. He spreads out, settles in, and pulls a book out of his duffel bag. To distract myself, I bring up the screen to enter my report for the evening, but my fingers sit unmoving on the keys. I lose my train of thought considering Charlie’s words and focus on worrying about Hawk again. He really is the only person I have in my life. Sure, Jefferson’s a part of it too but Hawk’s my family. I don’t know how he’s planning on coping up in Duluth trying to sniff out the vampire and its gang. What if he snaps? What if his big secret is revealed and he’s arrested by Melody? I’m not there to protect him. The option to run isn’t available. I alternate worrying my upper and lower lips and stare at the computer screen, debating sneaking to Duluth to loiter in the shadows to keep Hawk within my bubble of anti-crazy.
“You know,” Charlie says over in his corner, eyes still glued to his book, “they haven’t upgraded the systems to take your report mentally yet. You actually have to type it in for the words to come up.”
“Are you always this snarky?” I growl and strum my fingers on the keyboard.
“Are you always this grumpy?”
I roll my eyes. “I thought you just said you didn’t want to—” I mime air quotes, “—get into rows frequently.”
He lays his book open faced on his chest. “Sorry, force of habit.”
“Being a jerk is a habit? How’s that working out for you so far?”
Instead of firing back another snappy retort, he sighs and returns to his book, ignoring me. I take that as one point for Phoenix, zero for Charlie, and try to focus on typing up my report. After another few minutes of worrying, I start
typing away and force myself to remember the details of everything that happened tonight. Once I’m finished, I scroll through the news feed the IMS puts out to keep its agents informed to keep myself distracted. I come across the article Jefferson mentioned earlier about the suspected leviathan sighting. There’s a little update on the bottom asking agents working in the Atlantic Ocean to keep an eye open for suspicious activity due to several ships going missing.
I keep scrolling through articles and I’m halfway through a story about increased vampire activity in Paris when a car engine revs outside and then shuts off. I leap out of my chair and rush down the steps to meet Hawk as he exits the SUV. My first instinct is to check Hawk’s eyes but it’s impossible in the light—or lack thereof—out here. Does he have yellow rings around his eyes? Would they even appear after so short a time out by himself? Would Melody or the selkies have noticed if they did?
“Hey, how’d it go?” I ask in a rush.
He rubs the back of his neck and blows out a sharp breath. “Okay, I guess.” He glances at the barn, then the cabin, and lowers his voice to make sure only I can hear. “I kept it together just fine.”
My whole body relaxes and I nod as if I knew that’s what he would say the entire time.
“So, did you find anything?” I ask.
“Yes and no,” he says. “We found a trail leading away from Enger Tower but lost it on a well-used hiking path. If he stuck to that trail, Melody might be able to catch him on video at a parking lot it goes past.”
“So, what are they going to do now?”
“I’ll probably head up early tomorrow morning and help her continue the search.”
“You’re going back?” I ask and automatically grasp his arm. “Hawk, that’s a bad idea.”
“Why?”
“You know why.” I tug him in closer and whisper, “We haven’t tried something like this before. You know it’s dangerous testing your limits and how long the effects of having me around last.”
“We need to test my limits,” he argues, his eyes glinting in the glare of the floodlight hanging off the side of the barn. “Otherwise, how are we ever going to know what they are? Look, I handled the first test just fine. I’m okay. Really.” He slings his arm around my shoulders and practically drags me over to the cabin. “Besides, the real question we should be asking is whether you’ve managed to not kill Charlie, and if you can handle being on your own with him while I’m gone.”
“Ha-ha, you’re hilarious.”
We enter the cabin together. Jefferson’s door is shut and there’s no sign of him so I’m assuming he’s holed up for the evening, going over files or something. Hawk combs through the fridge and I lean against the kitchen counter, waiting for my brother to turn around so I can get a good look at his eyes in the well-lit room. When he spins around with a container of leftover venison, his brilliant green eyes lock onto mine for a second before he pushes me aside to reach the stove. There’s no yellow taint to their color and I let the matter drop. Maybe Hawk’s right. We don’t know his limits or mine yet and we need to keep stretching them. If only Jefferson’s imaginary expert would get back to us on my blood . . .
Dinner is a mostly silent affair. I think we’re both thinking too much and are completely exhausted by the day. Interrogating Dasc again consumes my thoughts. I’ll be back at it once his face heals, whenever that is.
I don’t sleep well that night. Then again, when do I ever? I dream of Hawk being dragged away by the vampire then gunshots echo in my head and I jerk awake. This would be the moment where I go out to the barn and field strip my mother’s gun or one from the armory. I’m halfway out of my bed when I remember Charlie’s sleeping in the barn. I silently curse under my breath and I fall back onto my pillows to stare at the dusty ceiling. Now that I’m awake I realize I’m absolutely freezing. My nose and hands are frozen stiff.
There are spare blankets on the dresser and I should go give the furnace a good kick. With another curse under my breath I slip out of the warmth of my blankets and hit the floor with a thud. A soft whine behind me makes me freeze. I slowly spin about on the pads of my feet to find Hawk in his bed, a pair of paws sticking out from under the blankets and a furry wolf head on his pillow. Even as a wolf he drools in his sleep and there’s a sticky puddle under his muzzle. He’s whining in his sleep and his paws twitch like he’s chasing something.
“Hawk, what the crap?” I whisper.
Did he shift on purpose? Pretty sure he’s never shifted while dreaming. I hesitate before reaching out and prodding his shoulder. His body shudders and he suddenly wakes with a yelp. I clamp a hand on his muzzle so he doesn’t make another startled sound to wake up Jefferson. His eyes are wide and jump all over the place. Then he focuses on my hands, on his paws, and he shakes his head, ears flopping side to side. I let go of his muzzle and he tucks his head back, ears flattening against his head. If I could see his skin, I think he’d be blushing.
I throw my hands up. “What are you doing?” I hiss. “Did you shift in your sleep?”
He shakes his head slowly and pulls one paw up at a time so they’re tucked beneath his blanket.
I rub my freezing arms and grab my sweater off the dresser, yanking it over my head while putting my arms through the sleeves. By the time I have it on, Hawk has gripped the edge of the blanket with his teeth and pulled it over his shoulders.
“Piping Pan,” I grumble and run a hand down my face. “Did you shift because you were cold?”
He ducks his head so his muzzle is resting on his paws, eyes averted and ears still flattened.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” I sigh. I turn back to the dresser and rummage for socks. After I pull on a pair, I grab Hawk’s closest paw and tuck a sock on. “Well, here you go, you big baby.”
He rolls his eyes and tries to pull away but I wrestle with him and manage to put socks on each of his four paws. I can’t help but laugh at how he looks—a fierce wolf with stripped socks and one cocked ear. When I’m done I pat him roughly on the head.
“Who’s a good boy?”
At that he growls. I wave him off and clamber into my bunkbed toting another blanket. I settle in, tucking myself deep into a cocoon and stare up at the ceiling again. Now that I think about it, I may be the only person on earth that handles having a werewolf sibling as normally as I do. I don’t flinch when there’s a wolf where a human should be. He’s just a big dog, my best friend. Sometimes it’s almost like an inside joke. That’s probably not a good thing.
“Don’t let Jefferson see you like that,” I whisper into the darkness. “Or Charlie. I don’t think they’ll find it as funny as I do.”
His tail thumps once in agreement.
In the morning Hawk wakes me up as his normal self, his red hair plastered to one side of his face. I glance at the clock on my phone and find it’s 5:00 a.m. My brother’s already dressed and zipping up his jacket.
“You’re actually up early?” I say and rub at my eyes.
He points sluggishly to a steaming mug on top of the dresser before finger combing his hair. “There’s this magical brew called coffee that’s like catnip for sleepy werewolves. There’s a pot on if you want some.” He gives me a good slap on the shoulder. “I gotta meet Melody.”
“This early?” I’m met with a surge of anxiety.
He grabs his mug and starts heading out the door. He vanishes then reappears a second later, sticking his head through the opening.
“Oh, and I told the principal you were out yesterday because you came down with a bad case of diarrhea.”
“What?”
He laughs and dashes away before I can even chuck a pillow at his head. Well, that’s not completely embarrassing or anything. If I’m lucky, no one else overheard Hawk’s excuse for my absence. I’d much rather tell the school I was off on business for a secret government agency interrogating a highly dangerous criminal under a dragon’s supervision.
By the time I change into my running clothes and head int
o the kitchen, Jefferson is already there pouring himself a cup of coffee. We make eye contact for only a second before each of us looks away. I guess we’re still in that awkward phase of “we sort of had a fight and don’t know how to talk to each other unless the other one starts a conversation first.” So, I don’t say anything at all and slip past him to the door.
It’s dark out and frigid. I clip a flashing button to the front of my jacket, turn on my MP3 player, and start a steady jog down the driveway to warm up. It feels good to be moving again. I run a couple of miles out on the salted pavement in the quiet darkness of the winter morning before heading back.
Charlie is outside with a cup of a coffee by the time I reach the cabin. He takes a long sip and watches me over the rim of his cup as I slow to a walk and pace in front of the cabin to cool down, doing my best to ignore him.
“Isn’t it a little cold to be out for a run?” he asks.
My eyes rake over him. His shoulders are hitched up and he’s trying to hide his chin in the collar of his jacket. I turn my head to hide my smile.
“I’m sorry, is it too cold for you?” I ask and continue to pace.
“Nah, I’m great. Peachy, even.” A shiver runs down his arms and he almost spills some of his coffee. “Just not quite used to Minnesota yet.”
“Didn’t you say you were in Canada before? This has got to be a walk in the park compared to that.”
“Only for a week. I was actually in Nevada last. Area 51. I’m used to heat.” He smiles and laughs quietly to himself. “Probably the longest I’ve ever stayed in any one place.”
I stop my pacing. “You got to stay in Area 51?”
“Those are indeed the words that came out of my mouth.”
“Did you get to see the gryphon armada?” I say in a rush, unable to stop myself before I remember I’m not supposed to care about anything Charlie says or does, but Area 51—Dreamland—has all the cool stuff happening. I’ve read up on the gryphon training camps housed in enormous underground bunkers fifty stories deep. They’re the legendary world’s version of the military. The gryphons hardly operate anymore but the stories I’ve heard are incredible. I’d kill to see them in action.
The Bite of Winter (International Monster Slayers Book 2) Page 14
