Shadow and Ice

by Gena Showalter

  Don’t think, just act. The cry came from deep within her soul, and something inside her changed. Vale, the plucky girl with street cred and swagger who’d ended up hospitalized a time or twelve after ticking off the wrong people, morphed into a conduit of pure female aggression and an unwavering determination to survive.

  “Let’s do this.” She glided forward and wreaked havoc. Never slowing, never hesitating. Anyone who reached out to snatch her got stabbed or jabbed.

  Part of her remained cold and calculated. The other part of her screamed protests. Murderer! Monster!

  The best way to help Knox right now—if he was out there—was to lead the army away from him.

  When Vale reached a row of cottonwoods, she paused to call out, “Here I am. Come on, come and get me.” Then she ran.

  They followed.

  Twigs sliced her feet, but she didn’t care and quickened her pace. Pain wasn’t a factor in her do-or-die decision-making. She darted around trees, boulders and mortals.

  Think! Which way should she go? Which path would lead to civilization? Must avoid other people. If anyone nonzombie-like saw her covered in blood... She shuddered.

  Taking a gamble, she veered left. Ragged breaths burned her nostrils. Her lungs felt as if they’d been coated with acid. Despite the afternoon chill, sweat trickled down her brow.

  When the trees began to thin, revealing a road up ahead, she threw a glance over her shoulder—dang it! When had she lost the mortals? Had they backtracked, determined to reach Knox?

  No help for it. She had to backtrack, too.

  As she turned, a muscular man jumped into her path—Rush.

  Her hand flew to her chest in an attempt to calm her riotous heartbeat, and she skidded over the dirt. New facts flooded her mind. In the beginning of the game, he’d targeted Celeste specifically, hoping to interrogate her to learn how she’d won a previous All War. But she’d used the pheromone against him, and he’d altered his efforts, deciding to kiss and strip her instead. When she’d attempted a death blow, he’d snapped out of the lust-induced haze, vowed to kill her and sprinted off.

  He frowned at Vale. “You are a mortal, yet I sense a combatant. Or you were a mortal.” His eyes widened, comprehension dawning. “You killed Celeste.”

  Panic seized her in a vise-grip. The utility knife and hammer would be useless against a skilled combatant like Rush.

  He took a step forward.

  “Don’t do anything rash, okay.” Her voice trembled with the same intensity as her body. “Let’s talk about this.”

  “There’s nothing to discuss. You entered the war. Therefore, you must die.” He raised his crossbow, three arrows already nocked. But instead of firing on her, he stiffened and whirled around.

  Gunfire exploded as armed men and women in uniform charged the street. Bullet after bullet peppered Rush’s chest, blood soaking his shirt as he stumbled back and crashed into a tree.

  “Stay down,” an officer shouted.

  “Ma’am, drop your weapons, put up your hands and get on your knees,” someone else called. “Now.”

  Vale obeyed; Rush did not. He popped to his feet and dashed from the area, gone in a blink, leaving her alone with the cops...and no credible explanation for her condition or however many dead bodies waited only a mile or so away.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  MULTIPLE PEOPLE PRESENTED the same two questions to Vale, simply changing the wording. The gist: Who was she, and what had happened? Not knowing what else to do, she remained mute, never uttering a word.

  Two officers drove her to the nearest hospital, where she was stripped, examined, poked, prodded, photographed, cleaned and given a pair of scrubs. The doctors and nurses asked her a thousand more questions she refused to answer.

  Anytime she was left alone, she tried to become invisible and intangible to slip out of the room. But she hadn’t developed control of the abilities, and figured her jacked up emotions blocked her.

  Ultimately, cops hauled her to local PD headquarters and shepherded her into an interrogation room.

  A kindly psychiatrist interviewed her first, using every trick in the book to learn the tiniest bit of information about her.

  “Help me help you,” he pleaded. “Unless you explain what happened, you’re going to be blamed.”

  If she mentioned the All War, she’d end up in a mental hospital. Or worse.

  You see, sir, aliens invaded our planet. They’ve turned our world into a gladiator arena. Winner gets everything, and all losers die.

  No, thanks.

  Eventually two police officers excused the doc and gave good cop/bad cop a chance. And she understood their reasoning, she really did. No one knew what to make of her, if she was a killer, or a victim or both. They didn’t know if she’d wielded the knife and the hammer herself or stolen them from someone else.

  Though she told herself what was done was done, and there was no rewinding the clock, or reviving the humans she’d slain, that she could only plow full steam ahead, her emotional numbness wore off. She wrapped her arms around her middle and sobbed.

  The cops explained a hiker had spotted the army of missing people and called 9-1-1. Soon after authorities arrived, gunfire rang out.

  “We’ve counted eighty-three dead bodies so far,” Good Cop said. He was in his fifties, and was visibly shaken. “I expect the number to rise as more of the woods are examined.”

  Swallow back bile.

  There was a silver lining, she supposed. In prison, she would be safe from other combatants. Unless someone paid another prisoner to end her, of course.

  Although, there’d be no need. If Vale missed the next check-in, she would be disqualified, hunted by an Enforcer named Seven, tortured and killed.

  Would she ever be safe again?

  Knox had been right. Big Brother paranoid was the only way to live.

  Maybe he would come for her again. Had he survived the last battle?

  Miss him. Want him.

  Need him.

  She just sobbed harder. Had he defeated Erik and Adonis? What about Rush? The rain of bullets had definitely weakened him, slowing him down. Had one of the other warriors swooped in to finish him off?

  Not knowing what else to do, the cops locked her in a holding cell. Dejected and alone, she sat on the cot and drew her knees to her chest.

  Today’s slogan: Reality can be worse than nightmare.

  So much to live for, so much at stake.

  If Vale had any hope of salvaging her life, she needed to toughen up fast and face facts. Otherworld invaders were here, and they weren’t going anywhere. She wasn’t going to stop the All War. How many other players had tried and failed over the centuries? If a cease and desist were possible, someone would have done it by now.

  Could she really stand by and do nothing while all of Earth was enslaved?

  The planet might be a steaming trash factory, but it was her steaming trash factory. A lot of people sucked, yes. There was no denying that. But there were good people out there, too. And what about kids? The underprivileged? How bad would things get with new realm-lords?

  Could she, a bona fide nobody, be the champion other earthlings so desperately needed? Could she purposely kill anyone who got in her way? Even Knox?

  A clammy sweat sheened her forehead and the back of her neck, but she nodded. Yes. Yes, she could be Earth’s champion.

  She was going to do it, she decided. She was going to fight in the All War, all in, nothing held back. This nobody would fight for everybody.

  Vale had no doubts she’d have to do reprehensible things to win. That she would cry before, during and after. But this was war, and she was a soldier, and she would never regret doing everything in her power to save an entire planet of people.

  For better or worse, she wouldn’t shy away from the tough stuff. I’m in
it to win it.

  A strange peace settled over her. And yeah, okay, the task ahead of her was monumental. She was plain ole ordinary Vale London, and the other combatants had tons more skill, but she had something they didn’t. The ability to absorb the memories and powers of the combatants she took out.

  The more heads she collected, the stronger she would become.

  Knox—beautiful, sensual Knox—would be last on her kill list. The fact that he was on the list at all nearly broke her, but it had to be done. No matter how much she desired him, their feud was the real deal. They weren’t pretendemies.

  Once, he’d called himself a tool, used by his king. Ansel was a wretched, greedy man who obviously had no trouble doing terrible things to and with his tools, before discarding them. She couldn’t let the tyrant rule this world.

  She crafted a new POA. Escape the cell by fair means or foul. If there are losses, there are losses. Find Knox, steal Celeste’s Rifters and sword. Say goodbye. Take out the competition, win the war.

  The plan would remain fluid, as usual. If Knox wanted to make a final-two alliance with her, she would agree. Would he?

  Could she trust him?

  No, she decided. She couldn’t. To him, freedom meant more than the girl he’d just met, and rightly so. But at the end of the day, he was still the best All War tutor on the market. She would have to be careful, weigh everything he said, and never drop her guard.

  Her eyelids grew heavy, and her blood heated. What the—

  A familiar, sweet scent saturated the air, fogging her head. The pheromone was seeping from her. Because she’d focused on Knox?

  As she rejoiced, a male officer rounded the corner, sniff, sniff, sniffing. He licked his lips, his dark eyes glazing with lust. When he caught sight of Vale, he quickened his pace, heading straight for her cell.

  Nape prickling with trepidation, she vaulted to her feet.

  The officer wrapped his fingers around the bars, and said, “I love you. Let me put a baby in you.”

  Oookay. Today’s stalker report: Bonery with a chance of ball removal.

  Channeling the seductive Celeste, Vale crooked her finger and beckoned her admirer closer. “Come, tell me everything you love about me. Leave nothing out.”

  He shook the bars and scowled, as if he couldn’t understand what was keeping them apart.

  Approaching him, she made sure to sway her hips. “Disengage the lock, silly. Let me out, and we’ll talk.” Laying it on too thick?

  “Yessss.” His pupils flared, spilling over his irises. “Disengage. Out. Talk.”

  “And hurry,” she instructed. “Your love muffin has things to do.”

  Let the games begin.

  * * *

  KNOX TRACKED VALE to a multistoried building with red brick walls and large windows.

  He’d lost her trail a few times and had to backtrack. Once he’d been hit by a car. Soon after that he’d had a run-in with Domino that had ended with a broken spine. But through it all Knox had persevered, strengthened by the outcome he desired—rescuing Vale, carting her back to the bunker...and devoting hours to her pleasure.

  He’d never tasted a woman’s arousal, but oh, he’d wanted to. Anytime he’d tried, his lovers had tensed, so he’d changed course before ever reaching his goal. Vale would be the first...if she let him. Would she?

  He craved the intimate act with her and her alone, and marveled that he had something to anticipate rather than dread.

  Afterward, when he was no longer overrun with desire, he would figure out his next move.

  Focus. Most of the mortals who entered and left the building were the police enforcers she’d told him about. Males and females in uniform, with guns strapped to their waistband.

  Would they beat Vale bloody, lock her in a dungeon for a few days, then beat her all over again?

  The eyaer hadn’t yet decided if her necessity to him—saving her—was worth the risk to his life.

  Didn’t matter. Knox had already made up his mind. Hurt my woman and die. No exceptions.

  One day soon, he would end Erik, Rush and Adonis. First he’d have to find them. Just before a horde of armed and uniformed mortals known as SWAT had come barreling into the clearing, the trio had vanished from the mountains.

  Knox remembered Vale telling him SWAT meant Special Wingwoman And Therapist. Such an odd description for the gun-toting soldiers.

  Chattering voices drew him out of his head, different people striding in and out of the police station. Since Knox had never seen inside the building, he couldn’t enter through a rift. He’d have to go in the old-fashioned way.

  Remaining hidden by shadows, he maneuvered to the front doors. No one paid him any heed. When the next human entered, Knox slipped in behind him to discover a large, crowded room. No telltale surge of power to signal a combatant lurked nearby. Not that he could relax. Any of these humans could be working for one.

  Shiny floors reflected every movement around him. Small cubicles were partitioned from the main space by thick glass shields, and hallways were partially blocked by short, fat silver columns. Above, a second floor offered a viewing area of the space below—a parapet sheltered by a metal rail.

  Different conversations fused together, but he mentally pried them apart to make sense of what he was hearing.

  “—did he do this time?”

  “—made a mistake, okay?”

  “—we go now, please?”

  Where is my woman?

  No, not yours. The husband—

  The husband meant nothing! A divorce was imminent, she’d said, saving the ex’s life. Knox had never wanted a woman the way he wanted Vale, and he wouldn’t share her with anyone. If the ex contested the divorce, Knox would make Vale a widow, as originally planned.

  Determination impelled him onward.

  “—Valerina London?” The declaration came from above.

  Only two words, yet they acted as a verbal net. Attention snared, Knox commanded the shadows beneath his feet to spin faster and faster, lifting him higher and higher. Had he been visible, he would have appeared to stand atop a tornado, a master of the winds, unaffected by their violence.

  “—was in the system,” another male said. “Prints are a match. As a kid, she bounced between foster homes. One family alleged she attacked the dad with a kitchen knife, zero provocation but—” A long series of clicking and clacking. “He’s since been convicted of sexually abusing one of his charges.”

  Someone had dared touch a young, vulnerable Vale? Bombs of rage exploded inside Knox.

  “As a teen, Miss London had a few run-ins with the law,” the man continued. “Petty theft, assault. Looks like she was quite the scrapper. Probably had to be. Once she was beaten so badly she had to be hospitalized.”

  Beaten? My Vale? Bits of shrapnel left by those rage bombs—they exploded, too.

  “Do you think she killed all those people?” a woman asked.

  The answer was drowned out as the back of Knox’s neck prickled. A surge of power, a crackle of electricity...a combatant had just neared.

  On the first floor, a crowd of mortals snaked around a corner, exiting the hallway. Vale occupied the center of the group, holding court.

  Every muscle in Knox’s body hardened. His hands flexed, as if they remembered holding her and needed to do so again. He was pleased to note she sported no visible injuries.

  She wore a blue top and pants that bagged over her curves. The long length of her hair hung in black-and-white waves, the braids unraveled.

  So beautiful. So mine. For a little while, at least.

  The shadows beneath his feet slowed bit by bit, returning him to the floor. The mortals laughed at something Vale had said, and pride bubbled up inside him—she’d managed to overcome her circumstances.

  Beneath the pride, however, was a tide of anger.
He’d prepared to win a battle of legend on her behalf, and yet she had simply flirted her way out. She hadn’t needed him. He’d wasted precious time.

  The group of humans bypassed a row of those short silver columns, entering the lobby. Other humans grew dewy-eyed as they tracked her every movement, reminding him of puppies desperate to be petted.

  Knox inhaled, catching a whiff of her powerful scent. An avalanche of lust rolled through him, destroying his common sense, overriding his eyaer—his everything. Only Vale mattered.

  Must have her. Now!

  Lust had caught her up, too. Her nipples were hard little points, her skin flushed by passion-fever.

  If she wanted one of the mortals...

  Knox growled.

  At the front doors, Vale stopped. “All right, guys,” she said, her voice huskier than usual. “This is where we go our separate ways.”

  Groans of disappointment. Protests. No one could bear the thought of losing her.

  I know the feeling.

  A few of the males grasped at her, inciting Knox’s wrath further, but Vale sidestepped, avoiding contact—saving their lives.

  Do not speak. Do not grab her and run. Do not kiss her. Not until she’s safe in your bunker.

  Maintain strict control. Wait. Follow her. What would she do next? Suspicions arose.

  “You’re going to miss me, I know,” she said, and it was clear she hadn’t realized a combatant stood mere feet away. “But you must stay here and let me go. Otherwise I’ll be sad. You don’t want me sad, do you?”

  “No,” they assured her in unison.

  “No,” Knox said, and another growl left him. As Vale’s mastery of Celeste’s abilities increased, so did his foolishness, apparently.

  Amid a chorus of protests, the brazen wench blew everyone a merry kiss and strutted from the building.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  WITH THE JAILHOUSE in Vale’s rearview, her fake smile vanished in a hurry. How long did she have before the effects of the pheromone ebbed, and the cops came after her, guns blazing? An hour? A few minutes?