Wings of Frost

by J. D. Monroe

  He’d just dismissed them for a break when one of the palace guards hurried into the chamber and made a beeline for him. She carried a phone like it was a bomb about to explode. “Mr. Rimewing? There’s a call for you. It came through the Skywatch lines, but she only wants to talk to you. She says it needs to be on your phone. Can I give her your number?”

  “Who is it?”

  “She didn’t say,” the young woman said.

  It had to be Marlena. He needed it to be her so badly that it surprised him. He needed to be right about her. “Give it to her,” he said. “Wait. Give me the phone.”

  She handed it over. His heart thrummed as he raised it to his ear. “This is Velati.”

  There was a long pause. “This is Marlena. I need your number.”

  “You can talk to me here.” Please prove me right.

  “I don’t know if you’re tracing it. I’ve been on a while already. Tell me your number, and I’ll call back.”

  “530-555-2192. Are you—”

  The line went silent, and he handed the phone back to the guard. “Did she say anything else?” A metallic buzz whined through the quiet. He rushed to the shelf where he’d stowed his phone. The caller ID indicated an Unknown number. He answered it. “Marlena?”

  “It’s me,” she said. “Please don’t record me or anything.”

  “I’m not. It’s just me and you,” he said. “You want to tell me why you left? After you gave your word to me?”

  “I kept my word. I promised to keep you safe, and I did. I wasn’t planning to leave, but someone else had different plans.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You have a rat,” she said. His stomach plunged into the floor. “Saradir. I think he was one of the Stormcrest guards. Male hybrid, red hair, kinda skinny.”

  “You’re lying. He claimed you used your power on him.” He remembered the kid. He’d practically thrown himself at Sohan’s feet with apologies for being overtaken by Marlena’s power.

  “Nope,” she said. “I didn’t have to.”

  He paused. “Why are you really calling?”

  “Did you mean what you said before? When you said you saw something good in me?”

  “Yeah, I did then,” he said. “Right now I’m not so sure.”

  “Would you meet me?”

  He chuckled. “With you probably back at full power, in what’s obviously a trap? You must be kidding. I might have been that stupid before, but not anymore.”

  “You can name the place. Provided it’s in Dallas, Texas,” she said.

  “Why Dallas?”

  “Because that’s where I told them I was going. You hit the workshop in Tulsa, right? Get one of the shield amulets and wear it. It’ll protect you from my power so we can talk.”

  “I don’t know,” he said. “I don’t trust you.”

  She was quiet. “I hate this. Since I met you, I don’t know what’s right anymore.”

  “And you think I do?”

  “Yes or no, Velati,” she said. “I can’t be much longer.”

  He was silent. “I’ll text you.” She hung up.

  A blind man could see this was a trap. He knew he was a complete idiot for wanting it to be real. And yet…what if it was?

  He didn’t look back as he ran for the central compound, heading for the Tempest Wing. The office complex was abuzz with activity as the Tempest agents laid out the spoils of the Tulsa raid. Every flat surface was stacked with wooden crates. One agent was unwrapping a silver amulet, holding it up to the light.

  Rosak stood at the center of the bullpen, watching as two more agents opened a wooden crate with Fragile stenciled on the side. His eyes narrowed at Velati’s approach.

  “I need to talk to you,” Velati said.

  “Make an appointment.”

  “It’s important.”

  “It can wait.”

  He leaned in close and grabbed Rosak’s arm. His huge forearm tensed, engulfing Velati’s hand with cold in a silent threat. “I don’t want to make a scene and emasculate you in front of your people. If you don’t step away for this, I will.”

  Two minutes later, he had Rosak in his office. The taller man paced behind his desk. “What’s so goddamn important?”

  “I got a call from Marlena. The Chosen girl,” he said.

  Rosak stopped. “You’re calling each other now?”

  “She called the Skywatch,” he replied. “She wants me to meet her.”

  “You’re compromised on this,” Rosak said. “The answer is no.”

  “Yeah, I probably am,” Velati said. The other man’s eyes widened, like he couldn’t believe Velati admitted it. “She claims one of the Stormcrest guards let her out on purpose.”

  “He said he was compelled.”

  Velati shrugged. “You want to take the risk that he’s lying? If they have people inside, this is way worse than we thought. Make the call to Stormcrest.”

  “Fine. I’ll call. If you have to see this girl, then meet her, snap her neck, dump her out of the way somewhere,” Rosak said. “She’s too much of a risk.”

  “And if she wants to help us?”

  “I don’t give a damn what she wants. I don’t trust her, and neither should you,” Rosak said. He threw up his hands. “I know I can’t stop you, but if you want to do this, you’re entirely on your own. I’m not risking anyone else. And if you bring her back here, it’s either on our side without question or not at all. Understand me?”

  “I don’t answer to you. I was here before you were born.”

  “Yeah, I know who you are,” Rosak said. “And I know that for the last fifty years, you haven’t been here. I’ve been here, keeping my people safe while you’ve been off doing whatever the fuck you wanted. I used to wonder why you never came back, but I’m guessing the rumors aren’t too far from the truth.”

  Anger turned his guts to ice. “You don’t know shit.”

  “No? I know you’re going to do what you want regardless of what I say,” Rosak said. “Report back to me, or don’t. I don’t give a damn. But if she endangers my people again, I’ll end her myself, and I will make it my personal mission to make sure you’re banished for good.”

  As he’d expected, both Sohan and Dyadra had sent him off to the airport with firm reminders that this is fucking stupid and this is a trap respectively. At this point, he didn’t care. His reputation at Skyward Rest had been in tatters for decades. What was a bit more dirt now?

  He had to take the risk. Tucked into a slender sheath on his forearm was a syringe filled with a potent sedative he’d acquired from the Marashti before leaving. He wore one of the recovered amulets around his neck, concealed under his button-down shirt. The palm-sized amulet was oddly cold even against his cool skin. Hopefully Marlena wasn’t bullshitting him. The Stormflight soldiers who’d come through the Gate had spoken of the amulets, too, so it seemed legitimate.

  He’d texted her back by mid-afternoon.

  I’ll meet you. Come to Asheville.

  Marlena: I can’t go that far. It has to be in Dallas. Get there tonight. I’ll text details.

  And that was how he’d ended up on a ridiculously expensive last-minute flight to Dallas, wondering what the hell he was thinking. He’d booked a hotel while waiting for the plane to taxi to its terminal. After texting Marlena that he was in town, he’d sat on the bed like an idiot teenager with a crush, staring at the phone and for a girl to text him back. It was like the world’s most dangerous booty call.

  Close to ten at night, he got the text.

  Marlena: Meet me at the Temple. It’s a club.

  Was she roleplaying some weird James Bond shit? At least meeting in public made it harder to get into a bloody fight to the death.

  He searched for The Temple on his phone and found a flashy website for a new dance club downtown. Neon lights, billing for acts like DJ Serpentine and Glitter Glamazon. Dress to impress, the website said. He groaned. Not his type of place. But he called for a car, ready to pla
y along.

  What was he going to say? I trusted you sounded so sad and pathetic. The Cold Death didn’t get his feelings hurt. He’d be smarter to drug her and haul her back for Rosak to do as he pleased.

  But this felt right. Maybe his compass was irreparably broken, but he had to know.

  With the slow-moving traffic downtown, it took close to twenty minutes to arrive at The Temple. As soon as he got out of the car, he was greeted by the resounding boom of the bass from inside. He inspected the line that snaked out from the tinted glass doors and down the sidewalk. At least he was dressed appropriately in a tailored suit and a charcoal button-down that was unbuttoned enough to reveal the ink across his chest. As he approached the bouncer, ready to take advantage of his power, his pocket buzzed again.

  He checked his phone.

  Marlena: Turn around and go into the hotel across the street. In the bar.

  A chill prickled down his spine. She was watching him. Turning slowly, he surveyed the surrounding buildings. The Hourglass hotel was across the street, with a smooth façade of tinted glass reflecting the neon lights of the surrounding block. There were no balconies, and no sign of Marlena.

  Velati ran his hand over the needle sheathed on his arm, then turned to cross the street. Nimbly darting in front of a city bus, he approached the entrance to the Hourglass. Two sharply dressed doormen greeted him. “Good evening, sir,” they said in unison. With a silent nod, he walked into the marble-tiled lobby.

  Inside, a massive glass chandelier cast a glittering cascade of light over the pleasantly dim lobby. Quiet piano music played, mixing with a low rumble of conversation from the scattered couples and groups seated around the open space. Walking across the lobby, he felt dangerously exposed. Ice gathered in his palm, ready to be sharpened into a blade. His eyes flitted constantly. No one looked his way.

  Toward the back of the lobby was a waist-high wall and a darkened area beyond. A wall of bottles gleamed in the low light just beyond the wall. The familiar clinking of glasses called to him.

  “Good evening sir,” a hostess greeted.

  “Good evening,” he said absently. As he passed a table full of men in golf shirts, two of them looked up, then returned to their quiet conversation. A woman rose from a table near the entrance and strode toward him. With her dark hair in tousled waves and sultry eye makeup, it took him a solid five seconds to recognize Marlena.

  “Hi, sweetheart,” she said loudly as she approached. Sweet Skymother, she looked different. A black cocktail dress clung to her flawless figure. The neckline plunged deep to reveal scarlet ink tattooed over her shoulders and breasts, with a conspicuous bare spot over her breastbone. One of the golf-shirts looked up from his drink as she passed, eyes sweeping over her appreciatively. She embraced him, then ran her hands over his back and down his sides. Her breath was warm on his ear, sending a bolt of heat straight to his groin. Not a good start. “Are you armed?”

  “My dear.” It might have been an act, but there were worse things than a beautiful woman pressed tightly to him. She even smelled good, with a rich, spicy perfume covering the dark scent of her power. Running his hand over her bare back, he pressed one finger tight into her spine, prompting a tiny gasp as she arched into him. His lips grazed her ear. “I don’t need to be. Remember?”

  Her hand traced over his chest, pushing against the hard metal of the amulet. She looked up at him, her expression somber. “You took my advice. Come sit.”

  It was hard not to stare as she retreated to the table. The short dress left little to the imagination, baring long legs that were covered entirely in a lace-like pattern of crimson ink. He wouldn’t have guessed she would pick a pair of stilettos, but they worked for her. And for him, judging by the heat of desire sweeping through him. She sank into a chair and sipped her drink.

  “You look nice,” he commented. Leaning forward, he inhaled deeply. No scent of liquor from her direction. Clever girl, staying sober.

  “Amazing what a shower and a little mascara can do,” she replied. Her bright eyes skated over him. “How’s your leg?”

  “Fine,” he said. He sank onto one of the rounded couches, then slid around so he could see the bar entrance. “Why the change in venue?”

  “Because the Chosen are across the street in the club. They think that’s where I am, too. I’m supposed to get you out the back door and into their arms.”

  His heart thumped. “But you changed your mind.”

  “Or you did. Look in my eyes.” He instinctively touched his chest, but she shook her head. “I’m not trying anything on you. Tell me that what you showed me is real. That you didn’t make up the stories about all those people.”

  “It’s all real,” he said. “Marlena, do you know what happens when all the marks are done?”

  “I ascend,” she said.

  “Not the vague cult-speak version. You become one of the white dragons.”

  She nodded. “That’s right.”

  “Did you know that the transformation will shatter your mind?” Her green eyes narrowed. “One of the refugees from Ascavar was like you.” He tapped his temple. “But she’s an empty shell. They force her to turn and kill for them, and when she comes back, there’s nothing left of her.”

  Her lips pursed, but she was silent. Her brow furrowed, betraying her inner turmoil. He wished he could read her mind.

  “Did you know that part?”

  She took a deep breath. “Did you come to help me or kill me?” The change of subject was an answer of its own.

  “That depends on you,” he replied. “Do you want my help?”

  She closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them again, she looked determined. “I want you to help me with something. It’s not far from here. If you’ll help me do this, I’ll go with you. I’ll do whatever you want.”

  “What is it?”

  “Let me show you.”

  “Right now?” he asked.

  “Right now,” Marlena said. “They’re going to realize I’m gone soon. We have to do it now or never.”

  Velati got to his feet and held out his hand. “Let’s go,” he said. She rose to her feet, and he pulled her close, one strong hand at the small of her back. Her legs went rubbery for a moment at the close contact. The black suit clung to him in all the right places, accentuating his broad shoulders and powerful thighs. Inspecting the sleek lines reminded her of how he’d looked standing in the sun in Natar, every line of him glowing and beautiful. God, everything was confusing. The fleeting moment of desire faded as he murmured in her ear, pressing one hand to the still tender-wound in her back. “If this is a trick, I will finish what I started. You have my word.”

  She met his cold gaze, knowing that he meant every word. Then he released her, and she reached under the table for the small bag she’d brought. With Catrina watching over her shoulder, all she’d managed to bring was a set of black clothes and a pair of sensible shoes, along with a burner phone and the cash she’d kept from Saradir’s escape.

  Velati followed close behind her, his cold presence chilling her bare skin. The sharp clicking of her heels felt as loud as gunfire as she hurried across the tiled lobby and into the balmy warmth of night. It felt like the whole world would hear her and know she was running. Outside, the rumbling bass from the Temple reminded her of the Chosen and a renewed urgency overtook her.

  A black sedan had just pulled up to the curb, and the middle-aged male driver was climbing out. She intercepted him and grasped his shoulder. “I can take this for you.”

  He frowned, glancing back at the car. Her will wrapped around his weaker mind. He smiled, wide and earnest. “Thanks, darlin’. Take good care of her.”

  She palmed the keys and beckoned to Velati. “Let’s go.”

  As soon as she got in the car, she kicked off her towering heels and threw them in the back seat. He adjusted the seat to accommodate his large frame, then gave her an amused look. “Nice trick.”

  “I don’t have time for rent
al paperwork,” she replied primly. The nightclub loomed across the street. It had been about forty-five minutes since the mission had begun. They hadn’t been sure how long it would take him to get there, and the team had instructions to be patient. But it wouldn’t be too long before someone texted or called, trying to find out where she was. She handed her phone to Velati. “Turn that off and throw it out the window.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “You’re burning yourself, huh?”

  She didn’t respond, staring at the stream of headlights in front of her. With a roar of wind outside the window, Velati tossed the phone. She didn’t see it hit the pavement but felt the finality of it. This was it. No more walking the line and pretending she was confused. The long game was over, and she was committed.

  “Where are we going?” Velati asked.

  “Do you have any practical clothing?”

  “At my hotel on the opposite side of town. I didn’t know what to expect,” he said. “Marlena, what exactly is it you want me to do?”

  “About two days ago, the Chosen set up an emergency facility, like the one where you captured me,” she said. Emotion threatened to close her throat off. “We’re going to shut it down.”

  “Let me call for backup,” he said. “I can have people here to help in a few hours.”

  She shook her head. “There’s no time. They already don’t trust me. Once they realize I blew the mission, they’ll tighten security.”

  He already had his phone out. “We’ll do what we have to, and they can help with the cleanup,” he said. “Hey, it’s me. Yeah. I know, I’m an idiot. And I’m fine. There’s another facility here. It’s in…”

  “Henderson,” she said.

  “Henderson, Texas. Outside of Dallas. I said I was fine. We’re doing this before they lock it down. Okay. I’ll send you an address when I have one. Let me know when they move out.” He hung up, then rolled up his sleeves to expose his inked forearms. “They’re calling for backup from Atlanta. They can get a private plane here in a few hours.”