Argos gave me a brief rundown of the incantations I needed to whisper in order to curse the wendigo, and what energy I needed to channel to activate the Talon of Frost and reverse its snowy effects. In mid-sentence, Argos cocked his head and sneezed. “Do you hear that?”
Normally my senses were pretty good, and the Haelstrom had only amplified them. But with the swirling snow and omnipresent wind, I might as well have been a mortal trying to hear a friend at a rock concert. Little but nature’s static filled my ears.
I shook my head.
“It’s the wendigo,” Argos said, barking twice.
“Hide.”
“I can help.”
“You already explained what to do,” I said, trying to recall the list of instructions. The incantations were in a dead tongue, too, which didn’t help. Where Argos found all this information was beyond me. “Go to the cemetery.”
“He’s coming from over there.” Argos pointed with a bent front leg to my right. “About a hundred yards.”
“Thanks, buddy.” I watched his legs churn in the snow, struggling to gain purchase. Then he disappeared into the hazy fog, like he had never existed at all.
I turned, and I heard it now: the horrible, anguished roars of Ingi. Apparently the proto-wendigo had caught wind of my flesh. Through the driving snow, I swore I saw its sharpened horns. But maybe that was just my overactive imagination.
Brandishing the Talon of Frost like a sword, I called into the ether, “I’m here, you son of a bitch.”
It roared in response, thundering toward me. All of Argos’ information flew from my mind, replaced only by primal fear and adrenaline. Ten feet out, I caught sight of the hulking monster, its twisted face curled in a hideous snarl. Strands of bloody saliva dripped from its mouth. Ingi didn’t halt at the sight of me.
I stumbled in the thick snow, sidestepping his charge at the last moment. But not without cost. One of Ingi’s sharp claws sliced at my thigh. I buckled into the powder briefly. The momentum of the beast’s attack carried him well past me, even with the heavy resistance of the snow.
I stood no chance, weakened or at full strength. These things were like demon kryptonite. Its flesh was resistant to immolation, its claws just the right sharpness to knife through our flesh with remarkable ease. To make matters worse, it was playing with home-field advantage. Demons sucked in the cold; this bastard loved rolling around in the snow, munching on arms like they were carrot sticks. It was quite the coup for Marrack, taming a wendigo. And not just any garden variety version, either.
A clone of the original—a fearsome wendigo who had sired a lineage of savage beasts that pretty much no one in the magical community had missed. Until the Crimson Conclave, under Marrack’s esteemed rule, had considered it a good idea to wreak a little chaos and stir the pot.
All to find the five magical artifacts of untold power. Now that the Sol Council was in on the gig, and Tina Chen had dropped a bombshell on live television, things were going to get interesting.
Too bad I wasn’t going to be around to see the brave new world fast approaching.
Distracted, I barely noticed that Ingi had turned around. He roared something rhythmic and awful, probably screaming in a barbaric tongue that I was a fool for challenging him.
“Come and get some, you ugly bastard.” I goaded the cannibalistic beast with my free hand, as if the gouge in my leg was merely a scratch. “You can’t kill me.”
The wendigo hissed, his bloodshot eyes narrowing. It spewed icy breath toward me, snow and ice swirling in a zephyr-like gust. I dove aside, feeling a sub-arctic chill pass by my ass as I landed in a snow drift. The gunshot wound in my shoulder burned.
A few yards away, a chunk of ice thudded loudly to the ground.
Guess I knew how the receptionist wound up frozen.
I pushed myself up with the Talon of Frost. Wiping snow from my eyebrows, I stared at the wendigo, who was pawing at the icy turf about twenty-five yards north. He was far enough away to be shrouded in a silhouette of fog and snow.
It gave him more menace, if that was possible.
The chilly Remkah Talisman bounced against my neck as I staggered forward in suicidal determination. Ingi cocked his head, clearly confused by my brashness. Demons didn’t go on the offensive against them.
The wendigo took it as an insult, beating his chest hard enough with his jagged claws to draw blood. In a blur of horns, Ingi rushed forward like an enraged bull, determined to gore me. Woozy and slowed by the snow, I stopped moving and just froze.
Fifteen feet, ten.
The gap closed, and still I stood.
Move, Kalos. Goddamnit, man, you do not want this thing to eat you.
But my body was sluggish, worn down by the constant abuse of the past few days. I futilely tried to recall Argos’ complex list of incantations. Which ones were to curse the owner of this claw—well, the de facto owner, since the DNA was identical—and which ones were to end the bitter cold?
Not to mention my magical capabilities were…unrefined. Sure, I could literally raise the roof when it was necessary, but that was all unfocused brute strength. This required a little more nuance…
Ingi’s horrible roar and foul breath thrust me back to the present. He was close enough now that I could see every goddamn hair on his ugly, naked body. Trapped within his eyes, I saw something beneath the savage greed and bloodlust.
I saw fear.
I recalled something in the mountain of legends Argos had sent me. The original Ingi had been a man, transformed into a savage beast by eating human flesh. Maybe not the most upstanding gentleman to ever walk the earth, but it did give me hope.
Because men bleed.
Reflexively, I reared back with the Talon of Frost. Channeling the power of the Remkah Talisman, Carmine Chain and my own essence into my arm, I focused on the beast’s center of mass.
What are you doing, Kal? That thing needs to end an Ice Age.
But right now, I needed to survive the next second. And maybe, in this game of supernatural rock-paper-scissors, the only solution was to fight fire with the strength of fire.
Or wendigo with wendigo.
I felt my veins ripple as my arm pulsated with magical energy.
Then I hurled the diamond-hard Talon of Frost at the roaring monster as hard as I could. Combined with Ingi’s rapid forward momentum, it pierced the beast’s hard skin, splattering the pristine landscape with a geyser of blood and shredded heart.
Too close to stop, Ingi bowled right into me, sending me beneath the snow.
Warm liquid seeped through my t-shirt.
Ingi’s bloodshot eyes stared into mine, fangs bared, ready to feast upon my flesh. I cringed slightly, waiting for the beast to finish the job. But Ingi wasn’t breathing.
Fuck incantations and spells. I’d always been a more brute force kind of guy. I pushed the wendigo off with great effort and stumbled away in the snow.
Then I rushed back to dig the Talon of Frost out of Ingi’s bloodied chest. The fourteen-inch blade-like claw was undamaged.
I couldn’t say the same for the wendigo’s body, which looked rather like he had eaten a grenade.
“So that’s what a broken heart looks like,” I said, looking back once more at the gory scene.
It was time to avoid the same fate.
31
I managed to tap out a message to Gunnar, despite my stiffening fingers and failing vision. The contents were probably a little hysterical, but there was a dead wendigo in the middle of Inonda, and it needed to be removed immediately.
I wasn’t giving up life in the shadows without a fight.
Half-staggering the last forty yards to the graveyard, I collapsed right at the wrought-iron gates.
“Argos…” My faint voice was almost entirely swallowed by the wind.
But the dog came runni
ng, his black-and-white head weaving in and out of the snow-dappled headstones. When he arrived by my side, he tugged at my leather jacket, willing me up.
“I made it, buddy.” I closed my eyes. It felt nice. Sleep would be nice. Just a little…
“Jesus, is this your blood?” He let out a screeching yip, forcing me awake.
“I couldn’t remember your curse,” I said with a weak laugh. My heart hammered in my chest, slamming against its bony confines. “Too many fucking words.”
He barked happily. “I hate wendigos.”
“No argument there.” I tried to stand but failed, dropping back to my knees. “This is as far as we go. Think the counter-potion will work long distance?”
“I guess we’ll try our luck.”
I half-expected Marrack to step out of the icy fog and pluck the plastic container from my trembling fingers. But he didn’t materialize, much to my relief.
“I did some thinking while I was waiting,” Argos said, his tail wagging as I unscrewed the plastic cap. Good thing we packed this in plastic. That fucking wendigo was heavy. “And I have a minor alteration. Perhaps to—”
“We’re not making this thing again.” I clutched my chest, almost dropping the potion in the snow. “There’s no time.”
“Just to make it less painful,” Argos said. “I hate Isabella, but you should really just kill her. It’d be kinder.”
“I promised not to,” I said. “And she deserves what she’s getting.”
“If you just whisper a few words to dampen the effects, I think it’ll still get the message—”
“I unbound myself from her a long time ago. Essence or not, our lives aren’t connected.” That was wishful thinking, but best to put on a stoic face. “This is the message she needs.”
With quaking fingers, I brought the potion to my lips. I tried to channel the tragedy and sorrow of the place, but it was hard. Argos had me thinking about all our shared experiences. There had been good times, before Marrack had corrupted her. Bad time for your conscience to show up.
I took a whiff of the foul mixture. Even with my nose frozen and running from the cold, it smelled vile.
Argos looked at me sadly, but made no protest.
“She made this bed,” I said. “It has to be done.”
I downed the mixture in one glug. A strange warmth grew in my belly. Thoughts of demonic hatred rushed through my mind, drowning out all reason. Argos fled, ducking behind a snowy tombstone for cover.
The ice and frost around me melted. Then a massive beam of fire shot out from my mouth, like a dragon. The white-hot flame left behind a river of water and slush, before disappearing some hundred yards in the distance.
The sudden burst of strength vanished, and my chin slumped down. Argos hesitantly trotted back.
“That’s a lot of hatred, Kal,” Argos said with worry.
“I feel better already,” I said, eyes threatening to close. “Now about this Talon thing.”
But I went to sleep before we could address that particular problem.
32
I woke up two hours later with Argos’ teeth sinking into my hand. I pushed him away, and he whined.
“I tried everything else. You wouldn’t wake up.”
“I’m fine.” I felt massively hungover, but I no longer had a constant pain in my chest. I even found that I could stand. Apparently Isabella Kronos must’ve received my message loud and clear. “Give me the Talon of Frost.”
“It’s in the snow.”
I glanced back. The last two hours had seen the storm dump a few more inches of powder down on the snowy tundra. After a couple minutes of digging, my chapped fingers struck up against the bloody claw. I yanked it from its snowy prison and brushed it off.
“Just say the words slow.”
Argos repeated them from memory, and I channeled all my essence into the Talon of Frost. It began to glow and rattle as the ancient spell took effect. At the culmination—a fast-paced, rhythmic chant that I almost fucked up on multiple occasions—the Talon of Frost shattered into dust, sprinkling down into the Earth.
“I guess we know the last Ice Age ended naturally,” I said watching the dust be taken away on the wind. The snowstorm began to let up, the moon becoming visible through the thinning fog.
Pointing toward the semi-clear horizon, I said, “Time to go home, buddy.”
“What about Ziva?”
“She’ll get what’s coming for her. Just imagine how Isabella feels.”
He growled and jumped on me, claws digging into my leg. “Thanks, Kal.”
“Watch the wound.”
“Sorry,” he said, looking sheepish.
“Thought you were a man trapped in a dog’s body.”
“Fuck that. I’m celebrating.”
I scratched his ears and then we began the long walk home. By the time we reached my apartment, the air was Texas hot, the snow already turning to gray slush.
The Blood Frost was over.
*
The next day, around noon, I headed out to Charon’s loft to check on Nadia. Gunnar had successfully retrieved Ingi’s body without being detected. The entire news cycle remained in a speculative uproar, locked in a circuitous debate about the existence—or non-existence—of magical creatures.
I had received a text from Tina Chen, apologizing for any blowback. It also stated that she was going to lie low for awhile. After that kind of reveal, she was probably going to be hiding forever. That was punishment enough. No need for me to mete out more.
Not that I was against justice, of course.
Given all the times Kitsune had put me through the ringer, I had ruled against being magnanimous. The fox would have to stick around Texas until my call. She definitely deserved being dicked over at least once.
So as not to scare Nadia, I rapped on the front door twice. She appeared at the window, looking pissed. The door opened a crack.
“I came to check on your father.”
“He left at dawn, after the snow started melting.”
The Blood Frost had brought one unexpected side effect: the roads had turned into small rivers. Many parts of Inonda had flooded. Which was a better problem than before, but not exactly optimal.
Luckily Charon’s condo was built high enough off the ground to avoid that fate. My apartment hadn’t been so fortunate. I’d woken up to ice water lapping at my fingers.
“Javier tell you where he was headed?”
“He didn’t say,” Nadia said with a frown.
“What’s wrong?” I tried to peek inside for a clue. “Did he do something? Did I do something?”
“It’s not about him or you.” She threw the chain and opened the door. She still wore the same spandex pants and sports tank from the day before. From the look of the deep bags under her eyes, she hadn’t slept at all, either. “I—I found...”
“Don’t tell me you found Charon’s porn. That shit is weird.”
“I found Charon’s journal.”
“That’s probably worse.” I wiped my feet on the mat and followed Nadia to the couch. She handed me the plain spiral notebook.
“It’s one of many. I read them all.”
“No wonder you look like hell.”
She glared. “This is one of the more recent ones.”
I flipped through the yellowing pages. Some of them were shockingly lucid, while others were clearly written under heavy Ambrosia influence. I stopped at the sticky-noted page and peered at the scrawling handwriting.
“What am I looking for?” I said, scanning the page. Then I reached the bottom, and my insides turned to ice. “No.”
“Charon killed my mother,” Nadia said in a faraway, lost voice. “And it was all because of this stupid Conclave.”
I re-read the entry and closed the notebook. “Look, he was a drunk�
�”
“I want them all to pay,” Nadia said coolly, brushing aside my effort to comfort her. “I need a favor. Promise.”
“I already took a bullet for you.” I gave her a small smile to indicate I was kidding, but she glanced away. “There’s something else?”
“I really need you to promise.”
“Nadia—”
“Promise me.”
“I promise. Anything.”
There was a long silence. I regretted the words almost immediately.
“I want you to make me magical.”
I blinked twice. “Excuse me?”
“Transfer some of your essence to me so that I can avenge her death.”
Damn if my victories weren’t short-lived before new, bigger fires sprang up demanding immediate attention. Her bright emerald eyes looked deeply into mine, pleading for my help.
“I don’t think you want that.” Given recent events, the supernatural landscape was liable to run red with blood. Thrusting Nadia into the center would be egregiously irresponsible. Centuries-old creatures would perish in the clash between the Sol Council and Crimson Conclave.
What chance did a personal trainer from a dusty small town in Texas stand?
“You promised, Kalos.” Her hands pressed against my wounded shoulder. It wasn’t intentional. It was meant to be an affectionate plea. But it brought me fully to reality.
I stood up from the couch suddenly and hurried to the door. My lonely footsteps echoed off the tall ceiling.
“No.” I felt something break inside. The last time I’d broken a promise had been to a woman, too. But it was for everyone’s good.
“But your code.” Her face was blank, stunned at my outright refusal. “You promised.”
“I lied.”
And then I slammed the door as fast I could and ran down the street, into the broiling Texas heat. My boots sloshed and squished in the shin-deep water, but all I could feel was the little piece of myself missing in my chest.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered to no one at all, staring at the last remnants of the Blood Frost.
Then, head down and hands in my pockets, I began the long walk to the other side of town. There was a sports car there that wouldn’t drive itself home, and after all this other bullshit, I didn’t want to get a ticket for being illegally parked.
Blood Frost (The Half-Demon Rogue Trilogy Book 2) Page 15
