Snow on Cinders (The Tallas Series Book 2)

by Cathrina Constantine

  SNOW ON CINDERS

  CATHRINA CONSTANTINE

  This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, duplicated, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior written consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  © Text Copyright 2015

  Cover Artist: Melissa Stevens

  Edited by Rebecca Weeks

  All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this novel are fictitious and are products of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual events, or locales or persons, living or dead are entirely coincidental.

  To my son,

  Robert

  My Physician

  I Love You More

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  I Give Thanks to God in All Things.

  I’m forever grateful and happy to have found a wonderful and welcoming publisher, Sarah Davis Brandon of Crushing Hearts and Black Butterfly. Her encouragement and timeless effort to all the authors at CHBB simply amazes me. And she’s always available, easy to talk with, and understands what it’s like to be a writer, since she is one herself. I’d also like to thank the CHBB Street Team, every single person goes over the top to help and assist his or her fellow authors. A big hug to Rebecca Weeks who edited this book, I know it wasn’t an easy task. Thank you for the long hours spent making SNOW ON CINDERS even better. For my family, Jim, Niki, Robert, Jenna, Noelle, and Jordan, for their unceasing love. I know how upset they get when they see me stationed for hours behind the computer, and turning into a Zombie. For my biggest fans, Frances and Suzanne, thank you for your enthusiasm. Where would I be without people who buy and read my books? Without you I’d be lost. Thank you for your fantastic support!

  CHAPTER ONE

  It wasn’t unusual for your neighbor to vanish in the middle of the night.

  Night terrors, pleading, and the sporadic gunshot had become common. Citizens stayed behind closed doors or suffered the consequences.

  Tonight, a coal black sky greeted Paniess as she crawled out of her bedroom window. While listening for patrolling Mediators, she snuck over the dewy grass. Stealthily, she stole to the mansions side gable where sedan’s lined the crumbling pavement; exclusive cars for privileged Elites and Executives. The cars acted as screens as she threaded in and around and slipped into the wilting hydrangea bush.

  The fenced barriers had been completed weeks ago, and the front gate was guarded day and night. Detouring to the far section of their property, she climbed the chain links. With great difficulty Paniess swung her legs over the top and in the process gouged her thigh on the barbed wire right through her pants. Suppressing a gasp, she dangled by her fingers before dropping to the ground. Relieved to make it this far, she put pressure on her bleeding leg and limped forward keeping her eyes peeled for Mediators.

  The mansion was located approximately a mile from the village and Paniess strayed to the outskirts. Running and hiding behind tree trunks until she reached the vegetable fields. A plot of extensive treeless land lay before her; she’d made a mistake.

  Up ahead and nestled in the basin was the village of Tallas. A broad dirt road lined on either side with duplexes which housed citizens, survivors of the final days. Citizens that liked to remain aloof had built small cottages that dotted the periphery.

  Hearing voices, she flopped to the ground and covered her mouth to quell her rapid breathing. A beam of light rolled over the fields. Hastily rooting her face in the soil, she inhaled the loamy scent and waited.

  Cautious, she raised her head and watched the Mediators walking toward Headquarters. She was on time for the shift change. Getting to her feet she flew over the fields without looking back. Her auburn hair tied in a ponytail swished from shoulder to shoulder as she neared the first duplex, feeling home free. Her foot squished on a patch of berries, skidding gracelessly, she tumbled in a mesh of arms and legs.

  Lying on her back, she peered into the inky heavens while taking inventory of her bruised body. Achy, yet, nothing seemed to be broken, she scrambled upright.

  She performed a clumsy jog through a meadow past the first, second, and third housing complexes looking for a tumbledown cottage. Her thigh was starting to smart as she neared Goshen Quigley’s. Over the twilit land, she noted the buckling slant of the roofline and a lopsided front stoop.

  Hidden in a row of bushes, Paniess looked through the grubby windows, it appeared lifeless and dark. Hearing muffled whispers, she stopped dead in her tracks and sank into the overgrowth. Since the ineffective revolt, Pomfrey Addler had implemented a nightly curfew. The voices were coming from Mediators or someone was breaking the law, much like herself.

  Not wasting time, Paniess jimmied up the window and hoisted herself over the frame. She landed in a stark room with a mattress abutting the wall with mussed blankets. She tiptoed to a closed door. It squeaked as she pushed it open and smelled smoke from a recently gutted candle.

  Scritch—

  Temporarily blinded by a flaming match, Paniess squinted.

  “What the hell you doing here, girl? We could hear you in the bushes,” whispered a crotchety old man. He brought the flame to a blackened wick to relight a candle.

  “Goshen.” She gazed at an older than sin man who hated her father—just the person she’d been looking for. The shadows bled into worry lines on his forehead making them more pronounced. Several windows in the cottage had been covered by material to impede nosy Mediators.

  Another voice added into the mix. “Paniess, what are you doing here?” Her eyes cut to a familiar figure.

  “What are you doing here, Doctor Riggley?” She volleyed the question and looked from the frail Goshen to Rooney Riggley sitting at a tiny table. Rooney’s heavily lashed eyelid’s narrowed staring her down. She hated feeling intimidated by such an attractive man. The last person to make her stomach feel like infringing butterflies had been Doogan McTullan. The candles light accentuated Rooney’s strong chin, chiseled bone structure and russet hair, darker in the dimness, and swept nicely over his ears.

  “Rooney, calm down.” Goshen fanned an arthritic hand. “We’re all on the same side.”

  “Pomfrey’s daughter?” Rooney’s voice raised an octave. His brows collected and the flickering light made the good doctor appear almost sinister with flinty eyes.

  ***

  “Yes,” Goshen said. “She’s been helping Fulvio for years. No one knows, except me, and now you.” He pointed a crooked finger at him. “Keep this to yourself, boy.”

  Rooney couldn’t help but grin at the old codger. He loved him like a father or more so like a grandfather. “My lips are sealed.” He looked at Paniess standing transfixed in the middle of the room. “Take a seat.” He gestured to a rickety chair, which may or may not support her.

  With an air of grace, the tall and gorgeous Paniess settled on the chair like it was a royal throne.

  He never would’ve suspected the conceited and self-absorbed daughter of Pomfrey Addler to be in cahoots with Fulvio and Goshen. The light accented her prominent cheekbones and fine features and tonight she’d left her lips clear of her normal slathering of cherry lipstick, making her appear young and innocent. “I was just filling in Quigley about the Tanner boy,” Rooney said. “He died today.”

  “No—” Paniess dipped her head into the palm of her hand, distraught. “He was Fabal’s age, right?”

  “He was Fabal’s best friend.” He nodded and added a nasally
inhale. “He’ll be devastated when he finds out.”

  “This has to stop.” Goshen tapped his fingers on the table. “We need to get back to the way things were before—”

  “Before my father turned into a pompous, overbearing tyrant?” Paniess interjected. “He has the Elites, Zent, and Cletus, fixated on his twisted version of perfection. They’ll help him create a civilization without defects.”

  “It’s more than that.” Rooney glided his index finger through the candles flame. “The supposedly free Tallas has turned into a hellhole. Management is no better than the government before the final days. Condemning young Larksen Tanner to the whip for stealing a chicken was barbaric.”

  “Hmph. My father’s brutal approach of teaching citizens.” Paniess folded her arms over the table’s surface. “But it only makes them hate and fear him more. And I think he’s good with that.”

  “The food rationing system is pathetic.” Rooney continued to speak, even though the candle seemed to mesmerize him. “People are starving and Cletus still won’t allow us to hunt. They never did catch Doogan and Fulvio hunting beyond the perimeters and we’ve all filled our bellies with their meat. It doesn’t make sense. Citizens can’t survive outside the gates and we’re having a hard time surviving inside the gates.”

  “C’mon, Rooney,” Goshen’s tone turned severe, “you know why? Contaminated meat was causing birth defects.”

  “I haven’t run across a birth defect in over a year,” Rooney said while cleaning his finger of black soot left by the candles flame.

  “That’s ‘cause women were birthing babies at home, most of ‘em die. And the others that live, well, Pomfrey gives ‘em a choice. Either—” Goshen’s rheumy eyes zipped to Paniess. Her complexion wan in the light and her eyelids compressed, chewing on her lips. “Bad topic.”

  Rooney cupped his hands on top of the table, leaning forward. “At least Zent is relenting on the one child ruling.”

  “Um...I think he’s planning on rescinding that decree.” The flickering candle shadowed Paniess face. “Due to the bug infested crops being harvested this year.”

  “Okay, kids.” Goshen’s hand came up to block a yawn. “I’m ancient ‘n darn tired, and getting woken in the wee hours of the morn ain’t helping my health none. I know why you’re both here.” His eyes of wisdom surfed over them. “You want to know if I’ve had any word from Fulvio and Doogan, right?”

  Paniess’s mouth moved, however, Rooney beat her to the punch. “Have you?”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Far into the mountains a spectacular winter wonderland, snow encrusted pines and lackadaisical falling flakes smeared like a splattered bowl of oatmeal.

  “Run faster.” Knox shoved his younger sister’s shoulder, jarring her forward.

  “I can’t,” Swan panted, chasing past a tree trunk. “We can’t outrun them.”

  “We’re dead if we don’t.” Eleven-year-old Fabal sprinted past Knox and Swan, his curls blowing in the wind. “This way. Follow me. There’s a tree we can climb.”

  “Hurry,” Knox wheezed, glancing over his shoulder. “They’re gaining on us.”

  A hair-raising howl slipped through the woodlands along with heavy scampering, the crackling of twigs, and deep-seated growls fed the children’s ears.

  Swan tripped; face planting into a drift. “I can’t run in the snow it’s too hard.” Misty words sprinkled from her mouth, blinking her eyelashes that were fringed with white flakes.

  “Get up.” Knox pulled on her arm. “Fabal, help!”

  Fabal dug his heels into the snow and turned. The sight in the distance made his blood run cold. A pack of monstrous wolves threaded brambles and trees like it was second nature. Even from where he stood, the beast’s red eyes targeted them. He ran through the burdensome accumulation to help his friends. Together, Knox and Fabal linked Swan’s arms and practically dragged her along. “C’mon, Swan. Pick up your feet.” Frozen flakes crunched beneath them.

  “How much farther?” Knox asked.

  Fabal pointed to an immense tree, tread with armor-like bark. “Right there.” Hollowed knots and knobby protrusions bedecked the trunk. “Take off your gloves. It’ll be easier to climb and don’t look back. They’re close.” Three pairs of mittens sailed into the air.

  “Swan,” Fabal said, “get on my shoulders. Knox will steady you. Grab the tree knobs and climb up.” He knelt in the snow and with Knox assisting, Swan stepped onto his shoulders.

  When he straightened his knees, Swan braced herself on the tree. Her right hand cupped one of the protrusions. Then her left foot stepped off of his shoulder to poke into a knothole. “I’m good. Start climbing.” While she managed to make headway, an ominous growl sounded like it was standing right next to them. Peering down, she hollered, “They’re here. Hurry up!”

  Three wolves loped toward them. The leader of the pack, a hairy beast, black as ash and taller than Fabal, skidded, spraying snow. Two more, brindle in color, not much smaller than the leader darted with chomping jaws.

  Fabal, sweating bullets amid an arctic gale, clung to the tree. His deer hide boots hit one of the beasts in the snout before scaling the armor-like bark. “C’mon, Knox.” He looked at his friend’s mutated fingers fumbling to grab hold.

  The brindled wolf had Knox’s foot sandwiched between his incisors. Knox twisted; leveraging his back against the tree, he utilized his free leg to kick the beast in the throat. Resilient enough to loosen the wolf’s scissored teeth. Swiftly turning, he ascended the trunk only to be accosted again. This time, two wolves clamped onto his shins and a shriek of pain exploded from his mouth.

  “Fabal!” Swan’s voice trembled. “Help him!”

  Knox clung to the bark, though, the lower half of his body pulled away from the trunk. His face crumpled in fear as the wolves tugged like he was a chew toy. His red blood peppered the hoary snow, as a surge of tears rinsed his eyes.

  Fabal crawled up and over the closest limb, broad and sturdy to stand on. He reached into his back pocket and withdrew his slingshot. Glad he’d remembered to toss a few rocks into his coat, he arranged one into the slingshots cuff. Kneeling on the limb, he drew back the rubberized band, taking aim.

  Pfft

  Not even a squeal as the rock penetrated one wolf’s skull. The beast’s jaws released Knox. He thumped to the ground. Neither hesitating nor taking a breath, Fabal grabbed another rock and adjusted it into the slingshot. Steading himself, he breathed.

  Hang on, Knox!” Swan encouraged.

  Knox’s fingertips were slipping. He’s not going to make it. Even if Fabal killed the wolf gnawing on his leg, there was another standing by to finish the deed. In an ungainly move, Knox pushed off of the trunk in attempts to spin his body. He squealed bloody murder.

  When Knox broke from the tree, Fabal’s accuracy with the rock skewed to the left. It hit the wolf’s flank, sufficient for the beast to yip, letting go of his friend. Then he sighted the largest black beast that seemed content to watch from afar, prowl forward. Quickly, his fingers juggled in his pocket for the biggest rock he could find.

  “Oh my God!” Swan started to climb down the tree trunk. “I have to help him!”

  “Stay where you are.” Fabal pointed an authoritative arm toward her. “Don’t you dare move!” With precision, he scoped the large beast. “Come on...closer...closer you mangy mutt,” he muttered under his breath. Narrowing his eyelids while aiming, he waited for the perfect shot.

  What was shocking, the wolf’s malicious red eyes were not on Knox, but staring at him. The stalking wolf was almost a yard from Knox when Fabal unleashed his weapon. Like the wolf had waited for the bombing rock, he swerved out of the path. Throaty laughter ejected from the black beast as he pounced on top of Knox.

  ***

  Keeyla grated her fingertips through Doogan’s scruff. “You have quite a beard thing going on here.” She’d captured his mouth before he had a chance to voice a sarcastic comeback. Her hands held the nape of his ne
ck while the tip of her tongue enticed his lips.

  He moaned, parting his mouth, taking in all of her. His hands smoothed under her shirt, supple and warm, and pressed her to his chest.

  “You’re killing me here,” he said, desire snared his hormone-laden body. His raspy whisper scarcely breached her conscious as she nibbled the column of his throat.

  “Don’t go.” Her voice sweet as honeysuckle. “We need time. Alone.” Recapturing his mouth, the kiss intensified. Her fingers played over the scars stippling his broad back. And a memory flash: the sounds of a flicking whip slicing his skin.

  Their mouths fused in perfect synchronization like each soul knew how to please the other. Devoid of any breathing space, Doogan lifted Keeyla off her feet. Blindly he walked toward the farthest niche in the cave, what they called their own private space. Careful not to upset their passionate embrace, he lowered her to their makeshift bed.

  In a reluctant move, she detached her mouth from his to whisper, “Where’s Fabal?”

  “We have time.” He shuddered; an indication he wanted her more than ever like it was the first time. “Playing in the snow with Knox and Swan.”

  “I love you.” Her lashes fluttered, trying to see him through the dark.

  Less than an hour later, arm in arm the couple embarked from their niche into the mainstay of the cave. Aglow with a blazing fire to ward off the chill and to lighten the shadows, they spied Horatio tending to the woodpile. The dwarf’s long arms released chunks of timber against the wall of the cave. His squat frame clothed from head to toe in a woolen blanket acting as a coat. He looked toward the couple. “Are you ready to go?”

  Doogan peered down at Keeyla and then back to Horatio. “Yes, I’m ready.”

  “I wish you didn’t have to go.” Her fingers tickled up his back. “I never knew starting a new community would be such hard work. Tallas was livable, but this is downright impossible without the proper tools.”