Frostbite (Modern Knights Book 1) Read online

  “Because they weren’t Valente employees.”

  That fit. I knew about all the attacks on people who fell under the corporate umbrella of Valente International. The Old Ways massacre and these three took me by surprise, because they weren’t under Valente’s protection. I remembered something from my discussion with the Eye of Winter about two separate events: a man walking the Shadowlands and the woman calling down the curse. Was there an uncursed wendigo, woken by the shadow walker, out there? And if so, was it my responsibility to stop it? I wasn’t walking the Shadowlands and I sure wasn’t being paid to protect the public, but somehow I felt vaguely responsible. It wasn’t that I had caused it…but I knew I had the power to stop it and with that power…Agent Devereaux’s return knock broke my reverie.

  11

  I would pay a lot to know what Andrea Devereaux, special agent, Behavioral Sciences Investigative, was thinking as she watched me flip through the pages of the dog-eared file. I tried my best to be nonchalant, as if I expected and understood everything that was between its manila covers, while secretly memorizing every line. I checked and re-checked names and dates, trying to fix the timeline in my own mind, lining up my whereabouts for each. I would have liked a few hours alone with the file, but instead I settled for a few minutes.

  I closed it up and offered it to her. “It all fits. Definitely a wendigo pack.”

  “And they’re all dead?” I couldn’t tell if she was eyeing me with suspicion or if it was residual fear of the things that go bump, growl, and bite in the night.

  I had been right on one thing: I hadn’t heard about the other three killings, because despite the same M.O., the victims weren’t Valente employees, ergo, no company interest. I had been wrong, however, about the direction and timing of the Joplin and Saint Louis killings. I was theorizing without facts; now I had facts, no matter how much I disliked them. I lied to her. “Three, bagged and tagged.”

  “How is it a lie? We killed three.”

  “It’s a lie in that it makes no mention of a fourth.”

  I watched her to see if she would buy it. She seemed to. Maybe she didn’t, but it was well past two in the morning and all of her novel experience circuits had been overloaded in the last few hours, so she nodded. “Good. Not a lot I can use, but it’s good to know, I suppose.”

  “That’s what I keep telling myself. It’s nice to know how far down the rabbit hole goes, even if what lives at the end of it scares the bejeezus out of me.” I tried to sound friendly, while secretly wishing she’d decide it was time to leave and never come back.

  She yawned. “I should probably call it a night.” She paused. “Look, Colin, if you ever need anything…y’know, stuff like this.” Her silence was longer this time, her voice nearly inaudible when she finished, “Or help getting away from Valente, just let me know.”

  I nodded sagaciously, but said nothing. She favored me with one last smile, which drove home the reminder of just how much she looked like long-lost Sarai, then turned and reached for the door knob. I hoped she stayed the hell away from me, but not because I disliked her. I was starting to take a shine to her and the world always need more people like Sarai. But I was absolutely certain being around me was a really good way to die.

  Before going to bed, I walked downstairs to use the payphone in the parking lot. I left a detailed message with Duchess of what I needed, then trudged back upstairs. My hand never left the grip of my chaos blade, but if there were any assassins waiting in the wings, no one tried anything. I crashed into a deep sleep, where my thoughts roamed through ancient forests full of trolls struggling for their next breath.

  12

  The next week was a blur to me. Between settling in, the side projects I was working on, waiting for word that the fae courts had decided to go to war with Valente International, and brushing up on how to make a Thanksgiving dinner, I barely had time to stop and breathe. Veruca stayed gone longer than I had expected, which helped me get half the time I needed, but I missed her fiercely. She had gotten under my skin in a way no one since Sarai had, but I hadn’t realized just how deep until she was gone.

  It was late Thursday afternoon, with a turkey far too large for me already roasting in the oven, when I heard the lock on the front door tumbling. By the time I escaped the kitchen, Veruca was already relocking it behind her. I disengaged from my apron and oven mitt before assaulting her with a hug.

  My right hand came back sticky and wet, a dark crimson under the pale afternoon sun of the western window. Veruca shook her one long bang, today a somber gray, then pulled me back into the hug.

  I tried to revel in it, before saying, “Not your blood, I hope.”

  “Nope.” I waited for more details, but none were forthcoming. Instead, after a long, intense hug, she sniffed the air and commented, “It actually smells like Thanksgiving in here.”

  “And now that you’re back, I have something to be thankful for.” I gently kissed her cold lips.

  It came out so sickeningly sweet I half-expected her to body slam me for it. Veruca was a lot of things, but sentimental wasn’t one of them. Instead, she surprised me by kissing me back. “Think dinner will be ready by the time I get out of the shower?”

  I grinned. “Only if I stay in the kitchen and cook.”

  V patted my back as she pulled away. “Well then, get your cook on. I’m starving.” She paused, then turned back to kiss me again. “And I missed you.” That said, she disappeared into the bathroom.

  I washed the blood off my hand and arm, then turned my attention to a rather stubborn pot of mashed potatoes. I silently turned the pieces of the mystery that was Veruca over in my mind, but didn’t come up with anything satisfactory. The blood from an international killing would have long since dried or removed. I didn’t know much about Veruca’s work, but I doubted that she liked getting her hands dirty if she didn’t have to. That suggested she had killed someone locally and that she hadn’t planned the killing ahead of time. I had reasoned it that far, and no further, when I heard a thunderous knock at the front door.

  My apron was still off from before, but this time I had to disengage my bloody shirt. A topless chef was strange, but not illegal. I checked my pants pocket to make sure the chaos blade was still in there, before unlocking the dead bolt.

  Kerath, fully dressed and far healthier than when last I’d seen him, cocked an eyebrow at me. “I didn’t know Thanksgiving was that kind of party in Boston. In Ohio, we saved au natural for New Years and Super Bowl Sunday.”

  I didn’t know if it was appropriate diplomatic protocol, but I hugged him, too. “Glad to see you made it. You had me more than a little worried.”

  “Made it?” A voice queried from beside him. “I thought you said we weren’t expected.”

  It took an effort to look around Kerath’s massive frame to see the petite blond beside him. She was pretty, but too thin, with all her facial features at sharp angles. “No, I mean, I’m surprised he’s alive. Last time I saw him...” I paused unsure how much she knew or was prudent to say.

  Kerath blushed a slight green. “Ah, it’d take a lot more than one little van to kill me. Wizard Fisher, this is my betrothed. Lady Selena, this is the wizard who fought beside me.”

  I had stepped back inside the apartment and couldn’t see her when she spoke. “For which we are both grateful, Wizard. My beloved tells me this is the appropriate day in your world for expressing thanks.”

  I hoped this wasn’t going the direction of some stories I had read. I liked Kerath, but I didn’t need him as a constant companion until he found a way to save my life. “Well, Sir Kerath helped me as much as I helped him.” The smell of something burning distracted me. “Do you two want to come on in? I’m in the middle of cooking dinner.”

  I hurried back into the kitchen as the scent of smoke grew stronger. It took me a half hour of frantic effort to save what I could of the meal. In the end, our Thanksgiving dinner consisted of a slightly dry turkey, reasonably decent sweet potat
oes, and a trio of pizzas. I called out for the last item after I pronounced the mashed potatoes and cranberry sauce dead on arrival.

  13

  The meal went peaceably enough. I had set up a card table where my dining table used to be, before I knew about the extra guests. When I had the cooking under control, I poked my head out of the kitchen long enough to discover the card table had been replaced. In its place was a massive, round table that looked like it had been carved from a solid block of ice. The chairs were dark green, save for where a pair of pale purple rose blooms crowned the top of each chair. Seven of them in all, looking more grown than made, surrounded the table.

  Veruca broke off her conversation with Selena to shoot me a curious glance. “Interesting company you keep when I’m away.”

  I shrugged and went back to finish the meal. The table occupied my mind, as I wondered how the two fae had gotten it in there without me feeling even the hint of magic.

  “Do not meddle in the affairs of Fairy, for you are mortal and easily duped? Relax, I can take ‘em if it comes to that.”

  Fortunately, Selena barely ate, so the meal fit for an army managed to find Veruca, Kerath, and me. I hoped her eating habits weren’t a reflection of my cooking. I’ll admit it wasn’t great, but it wasn’t bad, either.

  After dinner, Selena formally presented the table to me, in replacement of one that I had lost while saving her love, Kerath. I graciously accepted, while being careful to point out that neither of us owed the other anything in way of gifts or boons. Veruca asked what had happened to the old one. Kerath responded in the way that only a great trial lawyer could, recounting our tight negotiations and the mysterious ambush afterward with a flair for dramatic storytelling. He seemed to relish the drama in every detail, though I noticed he left Agent Devereaux out of the story.

  Veruca’s expression was grim as he finished. “You’re becoming popular, Colin. There was another one waiting for you when I came home today.”

  I thought back to the blood. “Looks that way. Three guys tried earlier the same day as the exploding van.”

  “Three?” she asked, her look more proud than surprised, as if our training together was paying off.

  “Three. Big guns, bigger silencers.”

  Kerath leaned forward on to the table. “Yes. The Faceless Ones can be quite relentless.”

  Veruca was verbally faster than me on the reply. “Faceless Ones?” I was going to say the same, though somewhere in my soul that phrase already echoed around.

  Selena cleared her throat. “A secret organization of humans bent on ruling the mortal world. Our queen is most unhappy that they attacked her emissary. She sends word that her resources are at your disposal in seeking revenge against them, Wizard Fisher.”

  I digested that over an already-full belly of turkey and pizza. At last, I said, “Tell Hher Majesty thank you for me.”

  Veruca gulped the last of her wine. “But what do they want with Colin?”

  All three of them looked at me. I simply shrugged. “Not a clue.”

  “Really? I thought you were smarter than that.”

  14

  That night, I tossed and turned in my sleep. It was good to have Veruca back in bed with me, but even her presence couldn’t pry me free from the thoughts than ran untamed through my mind. Weather reports, unexpected FBI visitors, secret societies, both ancient and modern, all darted haphazardly through my consciousness.

  Around one AM, I gave up on sleep and went out into the main room, I listened to the national weather service while meditating in the middle of my circle. Pittsburgh was being blanketed by a turkey day blizzard. I made a mental note to have Veruca check the missing person reports Monday. The distances between Oklahoma City, Tulsa, Joplin, Saint Louis, Memphis, Nashville, and Pittsburgh were sorted, analyzed, then re-sorted. I tried to remember if that was the route Veruca and I had driven in Dora, but found my memories badly entangled with my nightmares and personal suspicions. Still, if I was making this up, how had I known a storm would hit Pennsylvania this weekend?

  “Yeah, but you predicted Philadelphia, not Pittsburgh,” my dark voice noted.

  “I was wondering when you would show up.”

  “Your thoughts seemed plenty dark and desperate without any help from me.”

  “I did expect Philly. Makes me wonder if I’m wrong...”

  “Or if it’s speeding up.”

  “Something like that. There won’t be any bodies this time. It’s getting smarter, covering its tracks.”

  “If there’s another wendigo out there. It could just be a copycat. There’s some really sick people out there.”

  “What about the missing people in Memphis and Nashville?”

  “Plenty of unexplained missing in every major city. Again, there’s some really sick people out there.”

  “And the weather patterns?”

  “It’s late November, Colin. Snow happens.”

  I paused and worked on clearing the clutter from my head. Deep breath in, deep breath out. I counted backward from 33 before turning to the next topic. Where had I heard of the Faceless before?

  “The Eye of Winter. Something about faceless men who had trained the wendigoes in ancient times.”

  “Is that the connection? Are one of these people the shadowwalker?”

  The lack of response scared me. Did the monster living inside of me not know the answer? Or worse still, did it know, but was too afraid to tell?

  Even in a deep trance, I nearly jumped out of my skin when Veruca slid an arm around my shoulders. “You okay, Colin?”

  The concern in her voice was touching. I just wished I knew the answer to her question.

  15

  Lucien Valente invited me to breakfast the next week. I dressed to the standards of a country club, as best I could, but the address he gave me turned out to be an IHOP. This time, we were both the best dressed men to ever grace a discount pancake joint. As before, he insisted that I eat a little off of his plate before ordering anything for myself.

  “Why pancakes?” I asked.

  Lucien grinned. “Who would think to look for the two of us here? Unpredictable targets are hard to assassinate.”

  I added an extra creamer to my coffee. “I take it Veruca has been talking.”

  “I take attempts on the lives of my employees seriously.” He took a sip of his coffee. “Anything I need to do to make the assassins go away?”

  “You know anything about a group called the Faceless Men or why they wouldn’t want you to have a personal wizard?”

  He paused to allow the waiter to deliver my food and refresh our carafe. “No. I’m aware of numerous cabals, would-be Illuminati…but none by that name and none that have expressed an interest in my previous wizards.”

  I considered mentioning the possible connection to the wendigoes before deciding against it. Maybe it was the way Dorothy had died, but I thought of that business as personal. “It’s possible the fae invented them or are trying to trick us into doing their dirty work for them. Both times I’ve heard of them, it’s been off of a fairy’s lips.”

  Lucien replied, but whatever he said, I didn’t hear it. I suddenly realized my last statement wasn’t entirely true. I had heard of the Faceless before, from my own lips. True, it hadn’t been my voice, but I’d been the one speaking. I could feel my dark subconscious probing around the edges of the new revelation and instinctively shut him out from what I was thinking.

  When Valente finished speaking, I nodded sagaciously, as if I had been hanging on his every word. I tried to be polite, useful, and knowledgeable throughout the rest of the meal, but my thoughts were busy elsewhere.

  16

  It wasn’t until the third of December that my opportunity came. Veruca got a call from Lucien that afternoon and left with one of those excuses that meant I didn’t want to know where she was going to be for the next five or six hours. Normally, it might have bothered me that my girlfriend was going off to kill someone. Today, I just hop
ed it meant I could finally do some killing of my own.

  As soon as she was gone, I made a hurried tour of the apartment to load up my duffel bag: three black candles, a lighter, one of the spear replicas, the Necronomicon, and enough snacks to keep my belly quiet through a weekend camping trip.

  When I was satisfied that I had what I needed, I called Duchess Deluce.

  “Valente International.”

  “Duchess, it’s Fisher. I need a favor.”

  She paused for a moment. “What can I do for you, Mr. Fisher?”

  “There’s a rest stop on I-90 about 20 miles west of Boston.” I checked the mile marker again before relaying it. “I need it closed down ’til sunrise. Access for me and my car only.”

  “Contrary to popular belief, I don’t control the state government, Mr. Fisher. What should I tell the Department of Transportation to accomplish that feat?”

  I had to think for a moment. I had assumed Miss Deluce could accomplish it effortlessly. “Chemical leak. Tell them I’m the company inspector.” I paused. “Whatever bribe it takes to get them to keep quiet about it, take it out of my next paycheck.”

  “Mr. Valente always insists on paying expenses. This is company business, right?”

  I hesitated. It was business, but that didn’t mean I wanted to share what I was up to. If I was right, I didn’t want to tell anyone, ever, under any conditions. “Just checking a lead on the Faceless,” I lied.

  “I don’t need to know details, Mr. Fisher,” Duchess chided. “The boss has made it quite clear you report to him and him alone.” I could hear computer keys typing in the background. “In your orientation packet, I gave you two extra employee IDs, Mr. Fisher. One of them is in the name of Richard Dugger. Take that one with you and if anyone asks you for identification, give them that. The rest stop will be all yours ’til noon tomorrow.”