“Can I do something for you folks?” a voice called from among the vehicles.
Mason squinted, trying to pinpoint where it was coming from. A tall woman stepped from behind a truck, wiping her hands on a rag. She looked to be in her mid-thirties, though the short pigtails her hair was knotted into might have been making her look younger. She was pretty, though she lacked the glow Elora carried around.
“I’m looking for Jeter,” he said.
“You found her. What can I do for you?”
“We’ve got a dog team to trade. We're hoping for a car.”
Elora glanced his way, eyebrows drawn down.
“Well, I’ve got cars,” she said. “Not sure I want another team, though.”
“I might’ve believed that if I hadn’t seen the mangy duo you’ve got up here.”
She inclined her head and gave a half smile. “All right, I could use a new team. Let’s see what you’ve got.”
He led her outside, aware of Elora following behind. He didn’t doubt that she’d want the team. They were healthy and strong and despite the effort it had taken him to guide them, they were well trained.
She looked them over, letting each dog sniff her before kneeling to inspect their paws, teeth, and eyes. The matter-of-fact way she moved made it obvious that she knew what she was doing. Done with her inspection, she stood and jerked her head back to the warehouse.
“I’ll show you a few things I’ve got. You got something in mind?”
“Something fast and dependable.”
Jeter snorted as she led the way inside. “Nothing’s dependable up here. The cold saps the batteries short and that’s if you can find the fuel to keep the engine going.”
She showed them a few cars, all of which Mason passed on. None of them would make the trip to Dawson City.
“We need something more heavy duty.”
“What are you gonna use it for?”
“We're heading to the Capitol,” he said. If the Dealer questioned her, at least her answer would be what he expected and send him on the wrong trail.
A laugh burst from Jeter. “You crazy? Why wouldn’t you use a Regent sigil?”
He didn’t say anything, and her laugh faded away.
“You're not kidding.”
“No, I’m not.” His eyes narrowed threateningly. “Do you have something you can trade or are we taking our business elsewhere?”
Jeter stared at him, and he held firm.
“I don’t want trouble with the Tank,” she said, shaking her head.
Elora stepped up to his side and held her hands up in front of her. “Please.”
The gentle plea would never have worked on him, yet Jeter melted like butter on a hot stove.
“Come on.” Jeter motioned them to the very back of the warehouse and over to a sleek black truck.
Mason ran his hand along the hood, then popped it open. He wasn’t a mechanic, but the engine was in pristine condition and he could tell it was a new model.
“The exterior is solar paint. It’ll reduce the amount of fuel you’ll need to almost nothing, though as the days shorten it’ll be harder to keep it charged.”
It was perfect, and way too good for the trade he offered.
“This for the team?” he asked.
A pained look crossed her face. “Yep.”
“Done.” He stuck out his hand, and they shook on it. He turned to Elora. “I’ll go grab the gear. Stay here.”
She nodded, but her eyes stay trained on Jeter who hadn’t moved her gaze from the truck. He jogged to the front of the building to snag their bags and equipment. When he got back, he tossed everything in the bed of the truck.
“Key?” he asked Jeter.
She reached into her pocket and pulled out the key, her hand holding it with a white-knuckled grip. Her lips pinched together and for a moment, he thought she’d changed her mind. Then Elora stepped forward and smiled.
“Thank you,” she said to Jeter.
With that, the key dropped into the palm of his hand. He closed his fist around it and gestured for Elora to get in the passenger side and slid himself behind the steering wheel. He pressed the power button, and the engine purred to life. The truck sounded as smooth as it looked. He searched the control options for an auto drive, but couldn’t find it. He’d only driven a handful of times when he’d gone to the Capitol and each time he’d been aided by the autopilot features. But how hard could it be?
“Mason,” Elora said, pointing out the front window.
He peered through the warehouse to see a burly older man standing in the entrance. The buckshot bolt slung over his shoulder identified the guy as a Tank guard.
“Do you think he knows?” she whispered as if the man could hear them this far away.
“Probably.”
“What are we going to do?”
“Find the Underworld.”
11
The engine roared as Mason pressed down on the gas, but they didn’t move. Jeter took a step back, waving at the guard who started running toward them.
“Shit.” Mason fumbled with a long handle sticking up from the console between the seats.
“What’s wrong?” Elora had been in a car only once with her mother, but she knew that when he stepped on the gas, they should have moved forward.
The guard was closing the distance, reaching for his buckshot bolt. She’d accepted that she might not live through this journey, but she’d hoped to at least make it to the Underworld before she died.
“Nothing. Hold on.”
The truck jerked then shot forward, the back end fishtailing and making a horrendous squealing sound. Elora grabbed the handle with one hand while pressing the other against the dashboard. Still, she slid forward and to the side as they careened through the warehouse, taking a jagged path that took out at least one of the old beat-up vehicles Jeter collected.
They barreled toward the guard who managed to leap out of the way with a warrior yell. They passed by him and out of the warehouse. Elora blinked at the bright sunlight and twisted around to see out the back window. The guard had rolled onto his stomach and was putting the bolt to his shoulder. But the series of bolts sent at them flew past as Mason continued swerving from side to side. The bright red bolts exploded in front of them, sending up a flurry of snow, dirt, and rock. Debris pelted the truck, and she flinched instinctively as rocks chipped at the windshield.
As the danger faded away, Elora gave a nervous laugh that grew until it bordered on hysterical. Mason gave her a curious look, and her laughs turned to tears. Everything about their situation was so unbelievably tragic. She thought when she escaped Niobe her life would go back to some semblance of normal. Yet, if anything, life had only become more complex, and she was further away from that fantasy than ever.
She pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them, and burrowed her face in them. Her body shook with the strength of her sobs as the burden she faced, that she created, settled around her.
She’d been so naive to think she could fix the mess she made. Mason told her he wasn’t interested in retrieving the Soul Rune, but she’d selfishly hoped that if he were whole again, she would have the man she loved back, give him his life back. Yet now the Tank was after him. Not just Gregory, but the entire Tank force would be out to get him for nearly killing one of their own. Even if he got his soul back, he’d be running from this the rest of his life.
She thought she was ready to accept him the way he was. And as she’d drowned in the ecstasy of their lovemaking, she’d believed it with her whole heart. All it had taken, though, to show her how wrong she’d been, was for him to walk out of that tent as if they’d simply shaken hands.
“You hurt or something?” Mason asked as she continued to cry.
“No,” she mumbled, wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her parka. A deep breath steadied her and she decided she was done crying. Just like that morning when he left her alone in the tent. What’s done was done. All she could
do was accept what happened and move forward. Even if his indifference was like a knife stabbing into her chest.
“Why were you crying?”
She gave a tight, forced smile. “Because I seem destined to destroy you.”
He snorted. “I doubt you have that ability.”
That knife twisted deeper.
“Then maybe I’m destroying myself,” she said, gritting her teeth. “Do you think the guard will come after us?”
Mason’s broad shoulders bobbed. “He might, but it’ll take him time to get another vehicle. Even if he’s got a snowmobile, he won’t catch up with us on it. More likely that he’ll notify the Dealer and the Northern force will be put on alert.”
“You really think Gregory will do that?” Elora peeked at Mason from the corner of her eye.
“What? Sign my death warrant? Without a doubt.” He was impassive, unbothered by the thought of his father ordering his execution.
“But Luce ordered you to go with me,” she pointed out.
“Doesn’t matter now.”
He was right. Not about it not mattering, but about Gregory ordering the death of his son. Nothing was more important to Gregory than the job. That’s how it had always been. As a young man, Mason had resented his father’s dedication to the Tank, hurt by the ever-present knowledge that he came a distant second to Gregory. Yet, the long ago realization had no impact on him these days. It was just a fact. It was a blessing wrapped in a horrible disguise.
Regret sat heavy on her, bowing her shoulders and squeezing at her heart. She never should have put Mason in the position of having to defy his father and boss. They lapsed into silence, and Elora spent the time watching out the window as the coast disappeared and gave way to the forest.
The truck still swayed across the road, and while she might have attributed some of it to the holes they kept driving over, she couldn’t help but think they wouldn’t be hitting so many of the holes if Mason drove straighter. He drove even worse than he led a dog team.
They drove for almost an hour before Mason pulled to a stop along the road.
“Why are we stopping?”
“We need to get our bearings,” he said. “We left before I had a chance to figure out which direction we should be going.”
When he opened the door, a wave of frigid air rushed in, and she shivered. He hopped out and reached over the side of the truck bed to grab her bag. He climbed back in, cocooning them back in the semi-warmth of the cab.
“I need the map,” he said as he tossed the bag to her then proceeded to take off his coat and place it in the back of the cab. His tight shirt clung to him, and Elora allowed herself to enjoy the beauty of him then shook her head at her sheer idiocy because she was still lusting after him despite the way he’d shredded her heart only hours before.
She pulled out Tina’s journal and slid the map from between the pages. He held out his hand, but rather than giving it to him, she unfolded it and spread it on the seat between them.
“Any idea where we are?” she asked.
He pointed to a small dot south of Ironshore. “That’s Stebbins. Jeter’s place faced the southeast, and we turned right onto the road, so I’d guess we’ve hit this road here.” He trailed his finger along the map. “Sticking to the roads is gonna take us longer to get to Dawson City.”
“I thought that’s why we were going to look for a snowmobile. Why didn’t you ask Jeter about one? I saw some at the very back of the warehouse.”
He made a rough, noncommittal sound while shrugging one shoulder. “The snowmobile would be okay for a shorter trip, but the weather in the interior is going to be fiercer than what we’ve seen so far. The truck’ll keep us warm while we're on the move.”
“What about the roads?” Maintenance no longer existed. Even before the ravagers rose to the surface and attacked, there were few roads to the smaller communities along the coast. The first few Regents had struggled to keep them up to date, but there were more urgent needs to be met.
“This one runs parallel to the shield all the way to the Anchorage site. We can skirt the edge of town and head northeast from there.”
“Is it safe to be that close?”
Anchorage had once been a beacon of civilization in the North until ravagers destroyed it a decade ago. Apart from the Sector’s Southern island, it had been the hardest place hit along the coast. It had only taken seconds for the pack of ravagers to find a weak spot and tear through. Only a few hours to decimate the population. The Regent had been forced to evacuate the remaining people and move the barrier in, another whittling away of the sector. Even without people, the monsters stayed close, the memory of their prey enough to hold them there.
“We’ll turn north when we reach the ruins. Besides, we have a greater chance of being attacked by the guards than ravagers.” He folded the map up and handed it to her. “We’ll drive until dark then make camp, and we’ll reach Anchorage tomorrow morning.”
Elora stashed the map while Mason turned back onto the road. To occupy herself, she read Tina’s journal.
The pages were filled with a mishmash of information, some more useful than others. There were recipes for spells, incantations for various circumstances, mixed in with geographical information about the interior. The most interesting were the stories.
As a child, Elora had been fascinated with her aunt. Tina constantly defied the rigid expectations of society, which considering the wild demands of the North was difficult in Ironshore. Yet she had.
She’d lived her life exactly how she wanted, traveling with her husband as a contract tracker. They traveled along the barrier’s farthest and coldest regions in the Arctic, searching for breaches. Typically, those areas were too cold for even the ravagers, but occasionally over the summer months, they’d make their way up there. Tina and her husband would then follow the eastern border down, gathering supplies to bring back home.
Elora had always wanted to see the Rocky Mountains. She’d heard there were entire communities there that had been untouched by the ravagers, even before the divide.
Eventually, the grumbling of her stomach pulled her from the book, and she dug through her bag for something to eat. She found a package of dried caribou jerky and pulled two pieces out, passing one to Mason. She took his responding grunt as thanks.
“Why are you still wearing your parka?” he asked as he took the jerky.
“I’m cold,” she responded. Her chronically low body temperature had been one issue her mother had tried to use to get her to move to the Capitol. It was an issue she chose to suffer through rather than leave Ironshore.
“You can’t be that cold,” he said. To prove her point, she wrapped her hand around his arm. He shivered at the touch. “Shit. You are. Why don’t you turn the heat up?”
“I don’t know how.”
“It’s on the display.” He pressed a button on a small screen, turning it on. “Just scroll through the options.”
Elora stared at the glowing green screen, unsure of what he meant by scroll. As if he recognized her uncertainty, Mason swiped his finger upward, and the text moved with it.
When he moved out of the way, she searched through the list of commands until she found the one called temperature. She pressed the button and a new screen with a square box appeared. Beside it were instructions to place her thumb inside the box. She pressed her thumb against the screen and a second later there was a loud beep, and warm air began pushing through the vents.
“Huh,” Mason grunted. “It must be some kind of biometrics program, registering your body temperature to determine how warm it needs to be comfortable.”
Elora continued to search through the features. Most of them were related to increasing comfort of the passengers. Her favorite was the seat softener. With a simple press of a button she could make her seat as soft or hard as she liked. She held down the button until the cushion beneath her swayed with the movements of the truck.
“Are all vehicles this fancy?” she ask
ed, continuing to fiddle with the controls of her seat.
“No. Most designs are similar to those from a few hundred years ago, almost all the way back to the First Regent. I’m surprised Jeter was willing to part with it for the team.”
Guilt crept through Elora.
“She wasn’t.”
Mason glanced at her, the truck swerving as his entire focus turned from the road to her. He jerked the steering wheel to straighten their path.
“What do you mean?”
“I used a spell to compel her.”
“What are you talking about?”
“In Tina’s journal, there was an incantation to compel people into giving you what you want. I could tell Jeter wasn’t going to give us anything worth trading for, so I recited the spell.”
“That’s why she seemed so reluctant to hand over the keys, and why you were watching her so intently.”
Elora nodded. Magic had always been part of her life, a bloodline gift from her paternal grandmother. Yet, she’d only ever used it for good—to protect herself or others. Maybe the truck qualified as protecting herself and Mason, but the spell had consequences. Jeter had lost an expensive truck and probably faced questioning from the Tank.
Turning her attention back to the screen, she found the audio controls and opened up one called radio. Traditional tribal music drifted through the cab, gradually increasing in volume.
She’d missed the sound of music while she was on the island. The isolation hadn’t been just from people. She’d faced years devoid of the sounds and smells of life. The waves crashing against the shield and the wind pushing against the shack had become her music. She’d learned to focus on them, using them to drown out the screams of the ravagers. After a while, she heard in them the chords and rhythms of the songs she’d grown up listening to.
Closing her eyes, she fell into the rise and fall of the notes, escaping her reality. The thumping beats spoke their story, lulling her into a restless sleep that tangled her fears and pleasures.
Winter Souls: an Adult Paranormal Witch Romance: Sector 10 (The Othala Witch Collection) Page 11
