by Lee Collins
Praise for LEE COLLINS
"A page-turning thrill ride of a novel that could well redefine your perception of the 'wild' west."
- Rio Youers, author of Westlake Soul
"The Dead of Winter ain't your granddad's Western... Read it with the lights on - but for damn sure read it."
- Chris F Holm, author of Dead Harvest and The Wrong Goodbye
"A brilliant, bloody, violent dark fantasy - Charlie Huston turned up past 11."
- Andy Remic, author of the Clockwork Vampire Chronicles
"[It] turns in your grasp and bites you like a rattlesnake when you're least expecting it. The Dead of Winter... is a gripping read that has left me eager for the sequel."
- Graeme's Fantasy Book Reviews
"Stunning, mind-blowing, amazing, fan-frikkin-tastic."
- The Founding Fields
"8.5 out of 10... I'll definitely be looking into the sequel, She Returns From War."
- The Troubled Scribe
"Lee Collins has a winner on his hands!"
- Popcorn Reads
"I'm impressed. Very impressed... Collins displays a nice diversity of writing skills, including a unique voice, a solid story, and damaged characters that are both likable and strong. Not to mention an original storyline that throws plenty of punches throughout its course."
- Shattered Ravings
ALSO BY LEE COLLINS
The Dead of Winter
LEE COLLINS
She Returns from War
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Epilogue
About the Author
Acknowledgments
For my parents
who gave me Narnia, Middle-earth, Hyrule,
and the Starship Enterprise as playgrounds
ONE
Their eyes appeared first, floating in the night like orbs of yellow flame. One minute, the Oxford countryside was cold and still beneath an early April moon; the next, canine shapes ran alongside a certain backwoods lane. Tongues black as ink lolled from phantom jaws. Though they rose to the height of small horses, their feet made no sound on the young spring grass. They might have seemed like illusions - playing at the edge of sight only to vanish when looked at directly - but for their eyes. Saucer-sized, they smoldered like pits opening into a blazing furnace, silent beacons lighting the road ahead.
Victoria Dawes pulled her scarf up over her chin. Beside her, her mother wore a look of exasperation. The motion of the carriage threw their shoulders together time and again, but the seat left the two women no room to move apart.
"Come now, my dear," came her father's voice from the driver's seat. He had given their usual driver the night off so he might enjoy the nighttime countryside with his wife and daughter. "It isn't as though we are asking you to marry a chimney sweep or stable boy. Roger is a fine young man."
"A fine young man, a fine huntsman, and heir to a fine estate," Victoria finished for him. "Fine hair, fine teeth, and fine smallclothes."
"Really, Victoria," her mother said, "no need to be crass. Your father and I simply want what's best for you. Roger Grey will take good care of you and your children."
"Assuming he could see us around that beak nose of his."
Her father glanced over his shoulder. "I hardly think a large nose is reason enough to decline a marriage offer, especially for a woman your age."
"You make it sound as though I've one foot in the grave already," Victoria said. Her scarf tickled her chin as she spoke, and she pushed it down. "I'm only just twentythree."
"And the last of your friends to be married," her mother reminded her.
Victoria folded her arms and looked away. They could say what they liked; she would not marry Roger Grey. Even if he had a proper nose, the man was still too simple by half. She didn't want her children to carry on his legacy of dull-witted comments and friendliness with hounds and hawks. Roger seemed to prefer the company of such animals to that of people, but she couldn't fathom why. Her own father's hounds held little interest for her, and although she had learned to ride at a young age, she'd never formed any special friendships with her horses. She had no pet cats or canaries. Animals were animals; dumb beasts bred to serve, not sit at table. Were she to wed Roger Grey, she would no doubt find herself breaking her fast with his favorite riding-horse each morning.
A flicker of light in the distance caught her eye. Leaning forward, she squinted into the darkness. A shadowy line of trees stood at attention across an open field, their crowns forming a jagged horizon against the night sky. The moon, just past the first quarter, flooded the field with silver-blue light. Despite the rumbling of the carriage beneath her, Victoria could still see well enough to make out an odd shape running over the grass. It looked as though it might have been a horse, but she couldn't make out a rider. The shape was also wrong, somehow, but she didn't know what else it could be. No other animal that size lived in this part of the country.
"Father, what is that?" she asked, pointing at the strange shape.
He glanced in the direction of her finger. "Just a fellow out for a ride, the same as us."
"No need to change the subject, Victoria." Her mother sat up as straight as she could. "I've half a mind to-"
The carriage swerved to one side, throwing Victoria against her mother. The older woman let out a grunt as they collided. Before they could disentangle themselves, the carriage veered again. Victoria's lungs emptied as her mother's elbow landed on her midriff. Struggling for breath, she tried to roll out from under the weight, but her mother clung to her in a panic. She was dimly aware of her father's surprised exclamations as he regained control of the horses.
After a few agonizing seconds, Victoria managed to climb out from beneath her mother and reclaim her seat. "What on earth was that?" she asked.
"I haven't a clue," her father replied. "The girls must have spooked at a fox, I suppose." He took a deep breath to steady himself.
Victoria reached down to help her mother up. Before their hands met, the team let out a chorus of frightened whinnies and broke into a gallop. Caught off guard, her father tumbled backward into the buggy, landing squarely on his wife. She cried out in pain and desperately tried to shove him off. The carriage shook and rattled as the horses picked up speed, and the motion kept knocking him off balance as he tried to gather himself. His struggles only provoked further cries from his wife, who started crying.
Climbing over her fallen parents, Victoria pulled herself into the driver's seat. The reins bounced along the floorboards, coming dangerously close to sliding out of the buggy completely. She made a grab for them and missed, nearly tumbling off her perch. Righting herself, she tried again. This time, a bump on the road shook the buggy's frame, knocking the reins into her outstretched hand. Clenching the leather strips in a white-knuckled fist, she pulled herself upright. Grunts and scraping sounds came from behind her as her parents struggled to regain their balance.
Without thinking, Victoria pulled on the reins with all her might. The heads of both horses snapped to the right. The rest of the frightened animals followed, pulling the buggy off the road and into the grass. Panicking, Victoria continued to fight with the reins, causing the buggy to swerve violently from side to side. Stealing glances ahead of them, she saw flashes of bright yellow light looming ahead in the darkness. She pulled the reins to
the right again. The horses whinnied, fighting her. Looking right, she saw the reason for their terror, and a powerful shock of fear slammed into her stomach.
Beside the carriage, not three yards away, was a huge black animal. At first she thought it might have been another horse, but its gait gave it away: it was an enormous dog. Dumbstruck, she stared at it, the reins slack in her hands.
Before she could understand what she was seeing, the monster turned its head and looked at her. Eyes like tiny suns seared trails of liquid fire across her vision. Victoria jerked backward, instinctively pulling the reins to the left. The horses eagerly followed her lead, pulling the buggy headlong toward the waiting trees. The black creature slipped from view as they turned, bringing her a moment's respite. Turning her attention back to the team, she coaxed it into running at an angle toward the tree line. She could still feel those terrible eyes on her. The creature was chasing them now, she was sure of it. With any luck, she could turn the buggy in a slow circle, bringing them back to the road and a chance at escape.
Two more creatures charged out of the trees. Their eyes flashed in the shadows as they ran straight for the buggy. The terrified horses veered sharply to the left. The buggy's wheels skidded along the ground as it pulled through the turn, but it stayed upright. Victoria clung to the reins in desperation. She thought she could make out the road ahead of them. Just a few seconds and they would reach it.
"Victoria!" her father shouted from behind her. "What's happening?"
"I don't know," she called back. "Now hush!"
Victoria could feel the monsters behind them, but she forced the thought out of her mind. If she lost control now, she would kill herself and her parents. She had to focus on keeping the horses under control. In their present state, not even her father's driver would have had an easy time of it, and she had little experience with driving a buggy. Still, if she could take herself in hand and guide the animals in the right direction, they might just live through the night.
The road appeared ahead of them much sooner than she anticipated. As luck would have it, however, they were running along it at an angle. She gave the reins a short, sharp tug to the right as it passed beneath them. The horses responded, pulling the buggy out of the grass and back onto packed earth. Victoria looked to the right, expecting to see monstrous yellow eyes bearing down on them, but the field was deserted. She allowed herself a small smile of relief.
"Are you all right?" she asked over her shoulder.
"Yes, I think so. Your mother's fainted on us, I'm afraid," her father replied. She felt his hand on her shoulder. "Well done, my dear."
Victoria nodded her thanks. Ahead of them, she could see a bridge. The river it spanned was at least thirty feet across. She didn't know if the creatures chasing them could swim, but the bridge itself was narrow. If they could get across, they might be able to lose their pursuers. She clapped the reins across the team's back, but the animals needed no encouragement; the buggy thundered toward the river at a breakneck speed. Leaning forward, Victoria watched as the bridge loomed closer in the moonlight. Her fingers curled around the reins. They were going to make it.
A black shadow leaped up from the river. Fierce yellow eyes glowered at them as it landed on the road just before the bridge. Victoria slapped the reins again, urging the horses to charge through the creature. Instead, the animals panicked and veered to one side. Ahead of them, the surface of the water spread out like a vast pane of black glass. She pulled on the reins, desperate to steer the buggy away from disaster.
When they jumped the bank, Victoria found herself weightless. Horses, buggy, and passengers seemed suspended in midair, floating above the moonlit water like ghosts. She could see each white-tinted ripple and count every reflected star. The driver's seat drifted downward toward the river, but she remained aloft, sailing through the night. Looking down at her hands, she realized she had let go of the reins. Her father's voice reached her ears from a great distance. He was carrying on about something, but she couldn't make out what. Not that it mattered. She'd discovered she could fly. Closing her eyes, she tilted her head skyward and smiled, letting the cool air kiss her face.
The shock of icy water numbed her arms and legs as it closed in around her. She gasped at the impact, pulling a mouthful down into her lungs. Spasms shook her body. Her arms clawed frantically at the darkness, seeking a way out. The weight of her dress and coat pulled her downward, away from the surface and its life-giving air. She began kicking. Her shoes slipped off her feet and floated away. After a few more agonizing seconds, she felt her toes scrape against something solid, and she pushed against it with her remaining strength.
Frantic splashes filled Victoria's ears as her head broke the surface. She filled her lungs with night air and was rewarded with a violent coughing spell. Beating her arms against the water, she managed to keep herself afloat long enough to spot the closest bank. It wasn't far. She forced her legs into action and made for it.
Pulling herself up onto the riverbank, she collapsed as another coughing fit wracked her frame. Fire scorched her throat, making each breath a sweet agony. Her dress clung to her legs as she brought them up to her chest, but she barely noticed its cold, clammy touch. The world consisted of nothing beyond her aching lungs.
When the coughing fits finally subsided, she pushed herself up into a sitting position. The night was still and quiet around her. With a start, she remembered the shadowy creatures and the frantic chase, and an ocean of panic welled up inside her stomach. Victoria struggled to her feet, eyes sweeping up and down the river for the buggy or her parents. The water flowed past her, dark and placid. She wrapped her arms around herself with a shiver. Standing there, dripping wet, she suddenly felt very cold and very alone.
Upstream. If her parents were anywhere, they would be upstream. Victoria shook herself out of her stupor and began walking. It was slow going. The wet folds of her dress wrapped themselves around her legs with each step. She kicked them away as best she could. Her toes sank into the cool mud that lined the riverbank. As she walked, she kept her eyes on the river, searching for any sign of the ruined buggy.
A splash in the river behind her made her jump. Looking toward the sound, she saw a set of rings expanding outward across the surface. A fish, or maybe a frog. Not one of those dog creatures. The thought of them sent chills skittering across her body. She turned in a slow circle, watching for any telltale yellow eyes, but the fields around her were empty. Taking a deep breath, she continued the journey upstream. Her renewed fear added urgency to her steps. Every sound, real or imagined, turned her head and halted her progress. Unwelcome thoughts of the nightmare hounds kept forcing their way into her mind. She found herself imagining what their jet-black jaws would look like up close, the fetid smell of their breath, how their teeth would feel as they sank into her arm or leg.
A dark shape in the river caught her eye, and she froze.
Her breathing became shallow, soundless. Every muscle in her body tensed itself for flight if the shadow so much as twitched. Moments passed, punctuated by the thumping of her heart, but the shape didn't move. As the initial fear loosened its grip on her, she realized that she recognized the object in the water.
It was the buggy.
"Father!" she called, the shadow creatures forgotten. "Mother! Can you hear me?"
No reply came from the wreck. She began running along the bank, yelling her parents' names. Twice, her dress coiled around her legs and sent her sprawling in the mud, but she didn't stop. When she reached the point where the riverbank came closest to the buggy, she waded out into the water. The river rose to her waist, but she couldn't reach the wreck. This close, she could see the upturned rear wheels rising out of the water. The buggy had completely capsized, and there was no sign of the team. Anyone still inside would be trapped. Shivering, she called out again. Silence.
Helpless, Victoria waited, hoping for an answer or movement or any sign at all that her parents were still alive. The silence became
ominous, sending waves of fear through her mind. As her panic grew, she pulled off her overcoat and tossed it behind her. Her fingers began tugging at the laces crisscrossing her back. She hesitated, wondering what a fool she would make of herself if she had to return home in only her wet smallclothes. If her parents were still alive, they would be too humiliated to show their faces in public after such a display. Any hope she had of finding a halfway-decent husband would be dashed.
She shook herself. What on earth was she thinking? Pulling the laces free, she peeled her dress away from her shoulders and down over her hips. The current played with the laces as she stepped out of it and rolled it into a lumpy ball. She tossed it toward the bank, where it landed with a soggy splash. Now free of the crippling weight, Victoria started toward the wreck.
The river swirled around her in dark eddies as she waded toward the drowned buggy. As the water rose to her shoulders, she realized she would have to swim to reach it. She'd never been a strong swimmer, and even this light current made her uneasy. Survival instinct had fueled her earlier push to shore; if the current swept her downstream, she wasn't sure she could make it to the riverbank a second time. Still, if her parents were trapped under the buggy, she had to help them.
Taking a deep breath, she pushed off with her toes and began swimming. The current picked her up immediately, pushing her away from the wreck. She fought against it, kicking upstream until she caught hold of a wheel. The buggy shifted slightly beneath her weight, but it didn't come loose. Hand over hand, she made her way toward where the opening should have been.
Swinging around to the side of the wreck, Victoria got her first good look at what remained of the upper half. The entire top had broken loose of the wheels and fallen forward. Most of the cab was submerged, anchored to the riverbed by its own weight. Victoria sucked in a breath and pulled herself along the frame, submerging her head. Keeping her eyes closed, she felt along the buggy's side. Her fingers found a metal edge, and she pulled herself toward it. The riverbed brushed up against her shoulder. The opening was barely wide enough to accommodate her arm, but she plunged it in anyway. Fingers spread out, she groped for an arm, a leg, anything that might be her mother or father.
