Blood Frost (The Half-Demon Rogue Trilogy Book 2)

by D. N. Erikson

  “Where the hell are you going?” Argos said, barking into the phone. “The potion is about to be finished. The Life of a Thousand Cuts crafting process is a very delicate—”

  “Just do your best.”

  “It’s not a do your best kind of thing,” Argos yelled. I heard his collar jingling as he ran about, furiously trying to put out fires—figurative, or in this case, maybe literal. “It’s a this won’t work at all kind of thing.”

  “Then I guess I’ll die if you don’t pull it out.”

  “You’re not helping, Kal.”

  “I trust you, buddy. No pressure.” Chest aching, I reached down and ended the phone call. Even that required a Herculean effort.

  “Where are we going?” Nadia said as she pulled out of the parking lot.

  “An old friend’s place,” I said, gingerly removing Charon’s condo key from my pocket.

  It was time to see what my former warden had left me in his last will and testament.

  *

  Luckily Charon’s condo was really just a two-story loft that the developers had rebranded. No long flights of stairs or tall buildings. It was, however, a trial and tribulation just getting the front door open. But after a few false starts, I stumbled inside, greeted by a frigid gust of air.

  “The AC works,” I said, shivering as I held the door open. Nadia and Javier moved slowly inside, and I allowed the door to slam shut. I hadn’t spent a ton of time at Charon’s, but the industrial, modern aesthetic was hard to forget.

  It was one big room, two stories of unfinished brick, exposed ductwork and stainless steel fixtures. The hardwood had been purposely scuffed up and aged, so as to give it a rustic textile shop kind of feel.

  Nadia dragged Javier over to a leather couch sitting all by its lonesome in the expanse. I caught my breath by the door, fighting another wave of pain. Sweat dripped from my nose. It was slightly concerning that the perspiration wasn’t a product of my own demonic anger.

  “Don’t mess this up, you furry bastard,” I muttered.

  “What’d you say?” Nadia called back as she scanned the condo for supplies that could help her father.

  “Nothing.” It wouldn’t be on Argos if the potion failed. Poor dog didn’t even have opposable thumbs. I limped across the massive room, which felt more like the open savannah. The burst of cold relief from the AC had been short-lived, although I noticed that Nadia, in her sports tank-top, was rubbing her arms for warmth.

  “What are we looking for?”

  “I have no idea. Didn’t read the will.”

  Nadia turned, her hands on her hips. “If he dies—”

  “Don’t threaten me right now,” I said, each word filtered through strained teeth. “Just let me think.”

  “It came out of nowhere,” Nadia said, pacing across the empty center of the room. She rubbed her temples, as if she was still trying to figure out whether it had all been real. “This ugly beast with horns. Just waiting on the street.”

  “It’s back.” She hadn’t seen the wendigo at the precinct. “You’re lucky the wendigo didn’t eat him.”

  “Wendigo?”

  “Furry cannibals driven by a lust for human and supernatural flesh. There’s one hanging around Inonda. Argos and I are working on a solution.”

  From her expression, that silver lining was not comforting. “This wendigo just slashed him in the stomach, over and over. I screamed, and screamed, and then it ran off when some of the neighbors came out and fired guns.”

  Luckily in Texas, everyone was well-armed. Even if the guns would be as much good against a wendigo as a fly swatter. The noise and commotion must have pushed him away. “What’d you tell them?”

  “My father insisted we get in his car before anyone could ask questions. Everything happened so fast.”

  That’s what everyone always says. Like time speeds up. Problem is, that was how details went missing. And all I had to work on was that a wendigo decided to pay her a visit. There was no why.

  “Where was this,” I said, my eyes briefly closing.

  Stay the fuck awake, Kal.

  It was hard. In the non-painful moments, I was tempted to nod off. But a coma wouldn’t serve me well. I punched my own chest, which almost gave me a heart attack. But it did the trick.

  “About thirty minutes from Inonda,” Nadia said. “He’s been living with me, ever since—well, you know.”

  Yes. Since Isabella went psycho and kidnapped her.

  “Wendigos are normally much more savage,” I said, gnawing at my dry lips. It didn’t make sense. These beasts were uncontrollable cannibals, driven by an insatiable urge to kill. They didn’t pick out targets or restrain themselves. The body count should’ve been much higher. “Tina Chen said she couldn’t control it. But someone is. The Crimson Conclave is.”

  This was pretty much confirmation. A rogue wendigo would leave behind a trail of limbs and bodies far more random. The only question was how they got the beast under control. You might as well try to teach a dog Latin.

  Then again, Argos knew Latin. So stranger things were possible.

  Javier spat up blood and choked on the couch. Nadia rushed to his side and clutched his pale hand. “He’s getting worse. Do something, Kal.”

  “Sure. I’ll just go get my sack of magic beans.”

  “Don’t be an asshole.”

  “You gotta do the searching,” I said, dropping to one knee. “I’m not doing so hot.”

  “I’m taking him to the hospital.”

  The words again cut through the fog. Going to the hospital was a non-starter with a wound this severe. Javier clearly knew that. It was a wonder he hadn’t bled out already, in fact. Probably had cast some sort of spell to staunch the bleeding temporarily. But no surgeon could take that mess of shredded skin and make it whole. Plus, there was the whole wizard and essence blood thing. A transfusion was a delicate business for those with essence in their veins.

  That was too much to explain to Nadia. And I didn’t have the energy to even try. But there was one thing that might help. Maybe my subconscious had steered us here, even when it wasn’t clear what I was looking for.

  I blinked heavily, and said, “Look upstairs. By the bed, probably.”

  Nadia hurried up the metal steps, her footsteps echoing. “What am I looking for?”

  “Medicine bottles, beer bottles, jugs.” I glanced over at Javier. The blood was beginning to pool on the couch. Whatever spell he had cast had worn off. Only minutes remained before he would die. “I don’t know exactly where he kept his Ambrosia.”

  “I can’t find anything.” I heard rustling, drawers being overturned.

  “Maybe beneath the bed. He might’ve been ashamed.”

  “There’s nothing here, Kal.” Nadia’s voice grew panicked. “There’s absolutely nothing—”

  “Is there a closet?”

  “At the end. It’s open. There’s an oar inside.”

  “Go to it.”

  “There’s nothing there, Kal.” I heard a nightstand tip over and a lamp break. “My father’s going to die. He’s actually going to die.”

  “Just go to the closet.”

  “And what, charter a boat?” But I heard her move toward the far wall. “Okay.”

  “Take the oar and smash the drywall.”

  “I don’t need therapy right now, I need a solution,” Nadia replied.

  “Then look at the oar,” I called. Even talking over long distances was energy draining in my current condition. “Is the tip caked in white dust?”

  There was no answer. Wood scraped as she slid the unwieldy object out of the closet. “Yes.”

  “Then smash it through the fucking wall.”

  There was no protest. Only the sound of an ancient Ferryman’s oar colliding with plaster. I heard a gasp from Nadia.

 
“There’s…jars of the stuff.”

  “Fantastic. Bring some down.”

  Glass clinked as she darted down the stairs. Nadia gave me a questioning look as she sprinted across the room, toward the couch.

  “Get your father to drink it.”

  “What’ll it do?”

  “It’ll save him.”

  “And then what?”

  I gritted my teeth, staring at the brown jar. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”

  And then Nadia Santos poured the Ambrosia into her father’s mouth.

  21

  I watched as the deep gouges in Javier’s stomach closed before our eyes. Nadia let out a small gasp, but I wasn’t shocked. I’d seen Ambrosia’s healing and life-extending properties before. There was a reason it was called the Nectar of the Gods—it granted those who drank it an elusive taste of their incredible power.

  Unfortunately, that brief glimpse came at a cost: it was the most addictive substance on the face of the planet, bar none. I could see it already, with Javier eagerly reaching for the jar as he regained strength.

  Nadia pulled it away. “No, you’ll make yourself sick.”

  “Just a little more…” Then he slumped into a deep sleep on the couch. The last of the slashes closed up, leaving behind bare flesh, perfect as a newborn’s. The entire healing process had taken less than five minutes. The only remaining evidence of the altercation with the beast was his shredded wizard’s robes.

  “You should have some too.” Nadia brought the contents of the half-empty jar to me.

  Perched on one knee, fighting off immense pain, I just shook my head. “I’d rather die.”

  “But it—you saw what it did.”

  “We might both live to regret that decision.” Nadia took the jar back upstairs. Charon had hidden his stash behind a literal wall. Multiple times. Even displaying what he had lost—his job as Ferryman of the Underworld—because of the Ambrosia in front of the offensive substance. Didn’t matter. When push came to shove, he just smashed through the wall with his beloved oar, symbolism and warnings be damned.

  The pain in my chest wasn’t subsiding, and the edges of my vision were beginning to fray at the seams. Isabella was putting the full press on, determined to end this sooner rather than later. It would be ironic to die because of selflessness. The past few days I had been running around, putting out all the fires that weren’t my own.

  I let out a rasping moan. Those choices were biting me hard in the ass.

  Nadia rushed back downstairs, certain her father was about to descend into the throes of death. When she saw Javier still sleeping fitfully, she raised an eyebrow at me.

  “Thanks for your concern,” I said. “I’m fine.”

  “You still haven’t told me who killed my mother.”

  “You’re on a long list, honey,” I said. “Wait your turn.”

  “Honey? What is this, the seventies?”

  “I hope not,” I said with a regrettable laugh that made my ribs howl. “Just trying to piss you off.”

  Her emerald eyes flared. “Not the time.”

  “I saved him, didn’t I?”

  She smoothed the rumples in her spandex workout pants and sighed. “Jesus Christ. I’m sorry.”

  “For what?” Sweat dripped on to the floor, beginning to form a pool. At this rate I’d die of dehydration before my organs exploded.

  “I just realized I’m being a raging bitch.”

  “Demons tend to aggravate people.”

  She laughed curtly, her cheeks flooding with embarrassment. “You’re really sick. I didn’t think you could get sick.”

  “You’ve only known what I was for a day or two.”

  “Well, during that time I thought you were pretty much bulletproof.”

  “Don’t shoot me to find out.” My phone buzzed, but moving was too much effort. “Get that, would you?”

  Nadia came over and gently removed the device from my pocket. She answered it and put it on speaker.

  “Kal,” Argos said, his voice breathy with excitement, “I think I did it.”

  Nadia gave me a funny look. I knew what she was asking. “He has a flip phone.”

  “What?” Argos said.

  “We got you a flip phone so you could press the buttons,” I said, groaning as another surge of pain rushed through my sternum. “The touch screen is a pain in the ass for dogs. Although he can use the iPad.”

  “Seriously? I just created this horrible potion of infinite pain and suffering, and you’re talking about this?” Argos said.

  “How do you know it works?”

  “Well, nothing blew up.”

  “That’s a relief.” I gave Nadia a look as if to say see what I do for you?

  “But we’ll have to wait until the moon is out tonight. Around midnight should do it.”

  “You didn’t mention anything about that before.”

  “I didn’t think we’d pull it off,” Argos said. “You’ve gotta drink it in a cemetery, too. Draw on all the sadness and tragedy.”

  “That all sounds lovely, except for one small problem.” I looked at the phone’s screen. It was only one o’clock in the afternoon. “I’m not gonna last that long.”

  “I don’t know what to say,” Argos replied with a small whine. “It fucking sucks.”

  “All right, buddy. When Gunnar gets up, call him to help you bottle it.”

  “Will do.”

  “And keep looking into the Talon of Frost. Maybe the Blood Frost will open up some new angles.”

  “Already on it.”

  The call ended, and I closed my eyes. Nadia punched me in the jaw.

  “Don’t go to sleep.”

  “Ow,” I said. “That’s the second time you’ve punched me.” But the blow had the intended effect. I was awake—at least for another few minutes.

  “The Ambrosia will help.”

  “I’d rather die,” I said. “Keep that shit away from me.”

  “Fine,” Nadia said with a slight huff. “But what are you gonna do instead? You’re not going to make it until midnight.”

  “Then we find a new drug,” I said with a cocky smile. “One that’s a little safer.”

  22

  My phone buzzed as we drove around Inonda’s seedier parts looking to score. I glanced at the caller ID. Tina Chen. This part of town had never been nice, but Haelstrom had really sent the place plunging off a cliff. Vagrants milled about the streets in a semi-lucid haze. Apparently when Haelstrom wore off, the comedown was brutal.

  “Who’s calling?” Nadia said, her eyes scanning the cracked streets.

  “No one important.” I sent Tina straight to voicemail. No need to have a conversation with my demon-hunting lawyer right now. My immediate needs were jumping to the front of the queue.

  “There.” I pointed at a bonfire in an alley. “They probably know.”

  “I’m not asking them,” Nadia said. “There’s at least four men.”

  “I don’t need you to be my drug whisperer,” I said. “Just stop the car.”

  “They’ll kick the shit out of you.”

  “I got a trick or two up these sleeves.”

  “I don’t know.” She glanced at my leather jacket, then at my pale face. “You look like you escaped the ICU.”

  But she slowed the convertible down. The men in the alley turned to look at who was dumb enough to drive a six-figure car with the top down in this type of neighborhood.

  “Pick me up here in five minutes,” I said, clutching the door handle like a ripcord, “And if I’m not here…”

  “I know the drill. I’ve seen a couple movies.”

  I staggered out of the luxury vehicle like a drunk, and Nadia roared off. The four men around the bonfire skulked out of the shadows, hovering around the mouth o
f the narrow alley.

  “You lost, asshole?” a big guy with hair down to his ass yelled at me.

  “I’m looking for something, Mountain Man,” I said, dragging myself closer. He backed up slightly. I don’t think it was because of my formidable appearance. Instead, it was probably because I smelled like a crate of dead fish.

  “Aww, hell man, you shit your pants or something?” Mountain Man replied.

  “Or something,” I said, limping closer to the alley. “I figure you guys can hook me up.”

  “Maybe we’ll just take all your money and kick your yuppie ass.”

  There was a chorus of affirmations. “Sure, you could. But you wouldn’t want to.”

  “Why not? I think that coat is Dax’s size. Right Dax?”

  “Uh-huh,” the one named Dax replied.

  “Yeah, and those boots, too,” Mountain Man said.

  “All I want is to get high, fellas,” I said. “Off that drug they say is made from werewolf blood.”

  There was a spate of laughter from the assembled group. “Guy doesn’t even know what it’s called.”

  “Shit, a real rookie.”

  “Just knock him the fuck out and leave him naked.”

  “We don’t know where to find any Haelstrom,” Mountain Man said, his graying hair swishing back and forth as he stepped forward. “And if we did, we wouldn’t give you a damn taste.”

  “That so?” I said.

  “That is so.”

  I focused on his majestic beard. Feeling half-drunk, I mumbled the words, “Firus ignitus.” A faint green glow emanated from the Remkah Talisman. Then a little spark erupted amidst my new friend’s tangled facial hair, burning away a patch near his cheek.

  All in all, it was a sad display of power—a magical parlor trick. But it had the intended effect, because Mountain Man, after slapping himself repeatedly in the face to snuff out the tiny ember, looked back at me in fear and awe. The rest of them backed up, toward the trash barrel fire.

  “I thought them stories was all made up. But you’re—you’re—”

  “I’m from Hell,” I said, playing it up further for theatrical effect. Without actual ass-kicking power at my disposal, it was pretty much the best I could do. The guys backed away from the bonfire. “I just escaped, and I’m thirsty for mortal blood.”