The Bite of Winter (International Monster Slayers Book 2)

by Bethany Helwig

  “Epsilon,” Zeta calls and tugs at the chain around Hawk’s neck to pull out the coin pendant that Scholar gave him.

  Oh no.

  Zeta tries to grab the pendant but the skin of her fingers sizzles as the metal burns her. She hisses and quickly drops it against Hawk’s chest.

  “It’s the demon!” she shrieks and Epsilon stalks over to bend close and inspect the pendant.

  Demon? Pixies, do they recognize Scholar’s work? Scholar had said if anyone knew where she was, they would all come for her. What did Scholar do to earn that much hatred in the twisted expressions of the lamia as they study the pendant from a safe distance?

  The two monsters back away and talk to each other as if I’m not even there.

  “Surely, this is more important than Lycaon?” Zeta says. “If the demon is here—”

  “Then we kill them both. Our mission is the wolf first.”

  Their conversation confirms my suspicions at least—they had been attacking the werewolves, using the vampires to carry out their dirty work, to lure Dasc out. So, why do they want me?

  “You.” Epsilon snaps her fingers at me. “You know where he is, don’t you? First you come to this city racing after our vampire and then you reappear in La Crosse using a code only Dasc would know. The little ginger girl gets around. We knew you were bound to come running to help your rather tasty friend here if he found himself . . . missing.”

  I swallow back the fear roiling in my chest. They captured Charlie to get to me. This is my fault.

  Epsilon steps closer. “You know where Dasc is hiding or being held.”

  As much as I would like to leave Dasc for the crows, he’s in a place that isn’t even supposed to exist and he’s my only hope for finding Jefferson’s daughter. I don’t speak a word. I brace myself for what comes next, because for monsters like them there’s only the next logical step to take with an unwilling prisoner. I clench my hands and strain against the chains. My skin is sure to be bruising underneath as the restraints cut into me but they give a little.

  The two lamia watch me, amused.

  “Do you want to feel the power of your own strength?” Zeta purrs and flicks her hand open to reveal razor sharp claws where fingernails ought to be.

  My breathing quickens and I clench my jaw. I just need to outlast them until Jefferson and Melody show up. They’ve got to find us soon, right? They’ll come for us. I keep my eyes focused on my brother as Zeta stalks over to me and pushes her pointer finger into my shoulder.

  “Where’s Dasc?” she asks.

  When I don’t respond, she pushes that claw right through my jacket and pierces my skin. I cry out and struggle against the chains, kicking my feet uselessly. She pulls her finger out, painted in my blood, and gives it a lick.

  “That’s disgusting,” I pant. “And probably . . . not very hygienic. You don’t know where that blood’s been.”

  “Oh, a comedian?” Zeta smiles at me and Epsilon stands behind her with arms crossed over her chest. “Tell me another joke. I love jokes.”

  My shoulder screams in pain and I grimace as the pair of lamia soak up my agony. Then Zeta’s expression flickers and she gives a grimace of pain of her own, pressing one hand to her chest. What’s wrong with her? Whatever it is, I hope it hurts like the devil.

  “You should take a TUMs for that heartburn,” I say. “I guess my blood doesn’t agree with you.”

  Epsilon’s eyes snap to the back of Zeta’s head. The next second her hand flashes out and her claws rake across the side of my face, eliciting yet another cry of pain. Oh, for the love of—this sucks. My face stings from the scratches across my cheek, and the rest of my body pulses with fresh pain. And I thought vampires had bad tempers.

  At least my cry manages to do one thing. Hawk stirs across from me and looks up in horror to the scene before him.

  “You really ought to file your nails,” I gasp, continuing to taunt the two women—that can literally rip my guts out—even though I’m terrified. “You might accidentally cut yourself.”

  That earns me fingers digging into the fresh bite wound at my neck. I fight the hold and a cry rips out of me. Warm blood runs down my neck which the lamia licks up like it’s syrup, freaking me out even more. I think I’m really going to vomit this time. But Zeta makes that expression again and clutches at her stomach. I slouch over breathing hard and my own blood stains my jacket. Again.

  “Leave her alone!” Hawk shouts.

  “Hawk, no,” I wheeze. Why did he have to draw attention to himself? He was supposed to wake up and figure out a way out of his chair while I distracted them.

  Epsilon struts over to my brother. “Finally awake, are you?”

  “Let her go.”

  “No.” She takes one of her bloody claws and lifts his chin with it. He winces. “Don’t worry. It’ll be your turn once this one tells me what I want to know.”

  “Tells you what?” he manages to say without moving his jaw too much.

  “Dasc’s location. And then you can tell me where you got that pretty little necklace.”

  His wide eyes move to me slouched in my chair. I shake my head ever so slightly. Zeta rests her hand on my shoulder and starts to squeeze. I clench my jaw and strain the muscles in my face trying not to make a sound.

  “Stop it!” he shouts.

  “You don’t like that, do you?” Epsilon says softly by his ear as she leans over him. “Protective? The family resemblance is obvious. Your sister. Ever heard her scream before?”

  Panic flushes his face. “If I tell you what you want to know, will you let her go?”

  “Hawk, you can’t—” I begin to protest but am cut off by Zeta clutching at my throat.

  “I’ll think on it,” Epsilon says like she’s bored. “If you actually have useful information.”

  “I can take you right to both of them,” Hawk says quickly. “I’ll take you all the way—as long as you let my sister live.”

  There is no good way out of this situation and we both know it. No matter what we do or say, they’ll kill us both. But maybe, just maybe, if we can split them up and get them moving into the open, we might have a chance of fighting back. Hawk levels his gaze at me and I know that’s exactly what he’s trying to do. Give us a fighting chance.

  “She’ll remain alive as long as you deliver that dragon and werewolf,” Epsilon says. “Tell us where they are.”

  He shakes his head. “I’ll show you. That’s the deal.”

  “What if I don’t like the deal?”

  “Then you’ll never find them.”

  The lamia rolls her eyes and flicks a hand at Zeta. “So dramatic. Let’s move. I don’t have time for this nonsense. Bring the bags.”

  Zeta scoops up the blood bags filled with Charlie’s blood, wincing as she does, and slings a full duffle bag over her shoulder. Is that all blood? That couldn’t have all come from Charlie or he’d already be dead. There’s just so much blood in that duffle bag.

  Oh, no. The missing selkies. That much blood could only mean . . .

  Zeta slips out of the room with her haul. Epsilon whistles sharply and three vampires creep into the room from behind the pipes surrounding us. I recognize one of them as the hoodie vampire that dumped his comrade’s body in the lake.

  “Keep an eye on those two,” she commands and yanks Hawk to his feet to bind his hands together. When she spins Hawk away and his back is turned, she mouths to the vampires. Bleed them out.

  So much for the lamia’s promise. This is it. I have to fight my way out or die. Hawk manages to swivel his head to see me before he’s shoved out by the lamia. They’re going to kill him once they find Scholar and realize where Dasc is. They’re going to kill my brother. It feels like my bones catch fire. It doesn’t numb the pain in my neck and shoulder but makes it negligible. Something is coming worse than agony or death.

  I’ll make them pay if they hurt him. They’ll all pay.

  The lamia disappear with my brother, and the group of v
ampires come in with their fanged smiles, needles, hollow tubes, and bags for blood. If they take another drop from Charlie, he’s going to die. I can’t let that happen either. If that lamia became strong enough to rip a vampire’s head clean off, then I can do the same. That strength is mine. It belongs to me.

  I wait for one of the vampires to stick a needle in my arm and get close enough. While he’s adjusting the blood bag, I slam my forehead into his with a painful crunch. As he staggers back, I throw my wrists and torso forward against the chains and end up crashing onto the floor, splintering the sides of the chair apart in the process. The vampires shout and I roll across the floor with the broken segments of the chair. The first vampire that comes close enough gets a solid kick to the chin that splits his jaw. The other two, stunned as their comrade falls backwards with a heavy thud, don’t come after me at once and give me enough time to shrug out of the chains and roll to my feet.

  Their focus switches to Charlie motionless in his chair and I see their wicked chain of thought. They want to use him against me and they’re closer to him than I am. The pair rush towards him so I send a fist into the ground. The whole building shakes from the force. Pieces of tiled floor, wood, and cement burst into the air from the impact and I have to close my eyes against the debris. I run forward blindly and blink away the dust to find the two vampires struggling to their feet.

  Running out of time, I give them both a sharp jab to the ribs to get them out of my way, then a few more feet and I’m in front of Charlie. I can’t fight the vampires with him in the room. The chances of him becoming a casualty are too high. I don’t bother trying to remove the restraints on him. I grab the back of the chair and drag the whole thing behind me as I sprint down the first hallway I come to. The slapping footsteps of the vampires give chase as I enter the maze of pipes pulling Charlie along. The chair tips awkwardly as I try to round a corner and he almost goes down. We balance out against the hot pipes that nearly singe my skin and I keep running.

  I end up running right into a supply closet. The door’s a thick steel make and it’s the best protection I’m going to have for Charlie at the moment. Commercial cleaners, rags, mop buckets, and tools line the shelves of the cramped space around me. The lamia took my weapons so I don’t have many options. I’ll need to improvise and fast, just like Jefferson’s been teaching me these last few months. If you don’t have the tools, then you make do with what you’ve got. The first thing that catches my eye is a soot covered shovel. The vampires round the corner and are almost at the door. Before they can breach the safety of the closet, I jump outside, slam the door shut, and give the knob a good kick to break it off. That should slow them down at least if they try to get inside. Charlie’s temporarily out of the fight.

  Having to take the time to do that, though, exposes my back. My face slams into the same steel door as a vampire leaps onto my back. Another one grabs a handful of my hair and keeps slamming my head into that stupid door. With the shovel braced in my hands I use it to push away from the supply closet and we stumble backwards into the steam pipes lining the hall. The vampire on my back howls when he meets the hot pipes but doesn’t loosen his grip. The second runs at me with hands extended and the third, oozing blood from his chin and mouth, stumbles in the second’s wake. Freakin’ vampires!

  I manage to swing the shovel in front of me to keep the other two at a distance while the stupid monkey on my back sinks his teeth into my already open and bleeding wound. With a shout of fury, I push off with my feet and slam him into the pipes again. This time he lets go, and I dart away between the three of them to stand further down the hall so they aren’t surrounding me anymore, then spin around with the shovel at the ready.

  They’re looking pretty battered but I’m sure I look worse at this point. I’ve got blood running down my face from somewhere and my neck is hurting like mad. Even in my current ragged state, the vampires don’t seem anxious to meet the end of the shovel when held in my hands. My previous displays of strength are making them more cautious.

  “That it?” I say and spit out a bloody glob at their feet. “Suck on that, you ticks.”

  A classic Minnesotan insult prime for driving vampires crazy. The three charge at the same time. Good thing this shovel’s long. I lunge at the one in the middle, holding the shovel like a rapier, and catch her right in the throat. She chokes on her own blood and draws back as the other two try a pincer move on me. I swing the shovel left and kick right, managing to hit both. They crash into the pipes and cement wall. All three momentarily stunned, I close in on the one that insisted on getting a piggy back ride from me and smash the shovel into the side of his face. He hits the ground hard, leaving his neck completely exposed.

  I swing the steel shovel plate down before I can hesitate, before I can think about how much blood there is already and how much more there’s about to be. The solid end of the shovel holds as it severs the vampire’s head from its body but the handle breaks from the force I throw into it. I’ve got a splintered chunk of wood left in my hands when the female lunges at me from the right. I pivot on my feet and hold out the improvised stake. That’s all there is to it and she impales herself right through the heart.

  One left. Clever this one—he pulls my feet out from under me and I almost fall face first into the decapitated vampire’s bloody mess but I catch myself. The shovel plate. It’s right in front of me. The vampire claws at my feet dragging me towards him. I reach out and my fingers brush the edge of the shovel. He keeps pulling. I flail my feet and manage to hit him in the shoulder. The small opening is all I need to grab the edge of the shovel. He yanks me backwards but I’ve got a weapon again. Getting one hand under me, I manage to flip myself onto my back and use both feet to kick him backwards into the wall.

  I’m on my feet before he manages to step a foot away from that flat expanse of cement and I drive the edge of the shovel into his throat. It’s really close and personal this time as the edge of the shovel digs into my palms and I push against flesh and bone. I close my mouth and turn my head as blood spurts over me. His body drops to the ground but his head remains held up by the edge of the shovel against the wall. I quickly let it drop and the head rolls away behind the pipes.

  Sucking down air and breathing in the foul aroma of blood and vampire decay, I brace a hand against the wall and vomit all over the floor. Absolutely shaking, I empty my stomach again before spitting out what’s left in my mouth—unable to use the back of my hand covered in blood to clear my lips—and stumble to the supply closet.

  For a moment I simply stand there with knees knocking together and blood dripping off my clothes. Then I give the door a good kick and the steel screeches as it’s forced inward off its frame. Luckily the door only clips the edge of Charlie’s chair and doesn’t hit him.

  He’s partially awake and trying to focus on me through half-lidded eyes. He looks awful. I wipe my filthy hands on my pants and kneel to pry the ropes off of him—I guess he wasn’t considered strong enough for the addition of chains.

  “I’ve got you,” I say in that encouraging way Hawk used for Gillian when we rescued her. “You’re going to be okay.”

  “Mason . . .” His reply is weak and breathy. His eyes start to flutter shut again.

  “Stay awake, Charlie!” I shout in his face to wake him up. He blinks fast and is clearly working hard at staying conscious. “You don’t want me to slap you, trust me.”

  I grab his arm to throw it around my shoulders and haul him to his feet. His toes catch on the ground and we stumble together through the hallways. I manage to get us lost a few times before we come full circle to where we had been held. A half-full bag of his blood still sits on the floor. I stoop to pick it up.

  “We’re definitely going to need this,” I mutter.

  Charlie’s in bad shape, and when I say bad shape, I mean he looks like death. It’s clear he can’t walk any further so I tuck the bag of blood into the front of my jacket for safe keeping and then readjust him so he�
��s in a fireman’s carry on my back. The wounds around my neck strain and I choke back a cry.

  “Okay, which way’s out?” I say to myself through gritted teeth.

  If it wasn’t so ridiculously dark in here . . .

  The lamia took Hawk down the path to the right. That must be the way out. I walk along it, panting hard, and make a few wrong turns again before I find myself in a pitch-black room. My hand hunts along the wall until I find a light switch and flick it on. I give a sigh of relief when the light illuminates a large garage door on the far wall. The next second I almost stagger backwards aghast at the sight in front of me.

  Two women lay face down on the ground unmoving, their skin deathly pale. Next to them lie two charred piles of a fleshy substance I can only assume were their seal skins. Easing Charlie down against the wall, I hurry to check both of the selkies. Tremors shake my hands when I can’t find a pulse. The lamias bled them out and burned their skins. They’re dead and we failed them. I fight back bile again and a terrible burning behind my eyes.

  If I don’t keep moving, Hawk is going to end up just like them.

  Feeling wretched and like the worst person on the planet, I remove the jacket from the closest selkie with a silent apology and wrap it around Charlie so he’s doubly insulated for where we have to go next. He’s on dangerous ground and going out into the cold is probably the worst possible thing for him in his condition, but I’m not leaving him behind.

  I move to the door and grasp the cold metal handle that bites into my skin. With a grunt I pull on it only to find it locked. Letting out a primal scream, I give it a good yank. The lock begins to break apart and after another good tug, I get the door free.

  A blistering wind slams into me from outside.

  “And a storm. Because why not? How can we make this day worse?” I mutter, continuing to talk to myself to keep myself distracted. Returning to Charlie, I ease him onto my shoulders once again and step carefully past the women I force myself to look away from. “Pixies. Charlie, I’m sorry, but we’re heading out there together. Just hang in there. I’m gonna get you help even if I have to walk through a freakin’ blizzard.”