Frostbite (Modern Knights Book 1) Read online

  “No, milady. But valiant heroines deserve a prize when the battle is won.”

  Her laughter rippled over me in a wave. “Aye. And if the wendigo will talk to you, it is doomed. No demon can possibly outmatch you at the game of tongues.”

  “I do not plan to talk, but to kill.”

  Her look was pensive as she stared across the waters of her home. “I wish it were for tongues, Wizard Colin. The ice demon is fierce. Are you sure you will win?”

  “No,” I confessed. “But I know the odds are better with you on my side. And I must try. I have given my word.”

  “Very well, Wizard Colin. I shall accept a reward once the creature is dead.”

  I bowed to her and sat down, Indian style, with my back against the western rock. “And now, adieu, Lady Tia. I must prepare the field.”

  I blinked for a moment and she was gone. My head was spinning with all things fae. Even the weaker ones, a gremlin and a lake-spirit of a man-made lake, were uncanny with a sense of power the fairy tales couldn’t capture. Tia took over the body of an FBI profiler, presumably a strong, disciplined mind, just because she didn’t like a book I was carrying. Never mind that she had an intuitive sense of everything that happened near her lake or that she could vanish soundlessly in an instant. If I was this impressed by the low-level pawns, how on Earth was I ever going to serve as an emissary to the fae courts where the big boys and girls played?

  “One disaster at a time,” the voice said.

  “Right you are, though I hate to admit it.”

  I spent the next hour simply sitting there, my eyes slowly taking in the terrain around me. If I was going to claim home court advantage, I really needed to know the lay of the land: every bump, root, and twig. I took it all in, slowly perfecting my mental picture of the area, changing it with each visual sweep until my psychic model was identical to the physical location.

  When I was confident in my mental re-creation, I rose, then sank to one knee, in the position of devotion. I gathered up my energy into the model, rolling the two into a ball the same color as the mud nearest the rock. I moved it up inside of me until it was just below the top of my head, the crown chakra. I took a deep breath and squeezed on the sphere till it burst, the exploding energy filling every nook and cranny of both my sanctuary and me.

  “I claim this land as mine. I am your lord and you are my soil, my rocks, my plants, my hill. This is my dominion and I am its master, its steward, its guardian.” I paused to let the words roll over and under every leaf, every blade of grass. “Will any dispute my claim? Speak now or forever hold peace.”

  “None, Lord Wizard,” Tia’s voice surprised me. I hadn’t realized she was still around. “I gift right of this place to you for a year and a day.”

  Her presence flustered me, even though she supported my claim. The sanctuary ritual was designed to conquer, not receive in gift. I needed her help, though, so I adapted as best I could. “Will any dispute the lady’s right to give thee as gift?”

  A silent minute passed. The energy I sent out returned to me and with it, a sense of belonging and purpose. This was my land now and both the dirt and I knew it. But what did that mean? I understood the concept of sanctuary, but I had never claimed one before. It was time to experiment and find out. In my mind, I imagined a circle being traced out in the mud in front of me. It took more effort than thought should, but I quickly saw where the extra energy was going. As the psychic circle drew itself out in my head, a matching one appeared in the physical earth at my feet.

  I smiled. Wizard one, wendigo zero.

  “Technically, it’s wendigo six. And what do you think you’re going to owe Tia for the gift?”

  “Yeah, she ambushed me mid-ritual, the little sneak. I may be her first wizard, but she knew the right time to “gift” me so that I had no choice but to accept it or let the ritual go sour. If she tried it again when I was dealing with the wendigo, it could get me killed.”

  “I wouldn’t worry about that.”

  “Why not?” I wondered.

  “If you’re dead, how is she going to collect her reward? Or the debt you now owe for the gifted land?”

  “So, do we go with it?”

  “Better here than elsewhere. But how are you going to get the wendigo to come to the lake?”

  “The curse is targeting Valente employees, right? And it gets stronger by eating its victims,” I told the voice.

  “With you so far...”

  “Tuesday night is the start of the full moon. Anything it’s doing to grow itself will be far more effective then. It’ll want a snack or three.”

  “But it attacked twice this week. What makes you think it will wait that long?”

  “Tia set it up one of the times. Maybe the last wizard was out hunting for it before the other attack and it was self-defense rather than hunger. Barring that, I don’t know. I just think it will wait.”

  “Okay, but there’s got to be hundreds of Valente employees in the state. Subsidiaries of subsidiaries of subsidiaries, remember? Why is it going to come after us?”

  “Who said it would?”

  I picked up my grem-phone, pressed zero, and asked for Duchess Deluce. There were no birds in the background while I waited, but an echoing water drip made me think of a vast underground cavern.

  “Valente International.” The irritation in her voice amused me. There was just something about bothering people that weren’t used to being toyed with that made it that much more fun.

  “So what does the caller ID read?”

  “Fisher?” She growled. “Rubbing in your victory?”

  “Nah, I’m over it. Look, I’m calling about the whole curse thing.”

  “Giving up already?”

  “Nope. I think I’ve got it under control. I just need one little thing…can you throw together a company picnic? Say, all Valente employees in Oklahoma City and Tulsa, northwest parking lot of Lake Thunderbird State Park, Tuesday night, starting at six PM and running till midnight?”

  There was a brief pause as I waited for her to explain to me why it was logistically impossible. Instead, her response was, “Are we serving hamburgers or hot links?”

  10

  I was getting worn thin, so I did what any good wizard would do: I had fun. Magic is will and belief. That’s a fancy way of saying that it comes from inside you. As a Catholic, I believe it’s part of what it means to be made in the image of God: everything He can do, I can, too, just on a smaller scale. Of course, He’s got several billion years of experience on me and presumably limitless energy resources, whereas I am fully enclosed within the laws of thermodynamics. So if I was going to go around flinging magic out of me, I needed to do something to bring energy back into me.

  The first shopping center I stopped at didn’t appeal to me. Dorothy and I hadn’t been spending as many miles together as usual, so I found another mall clear across town on the map. I took a roundabout way and might have kept my foot a little heavier on the gas pedal than was ideal, but a guy has to show his car he loves her somehow. The next mall had me hooked the instant I saw the store directory: a Ghiradelli chocolatiers and a video arcade. Energy intake didn’t get any better than good chocolate and pinball.

  My stop at Ghiradelli required little in the way of explanation. My purchases fell into three categories: chocolate I ate while still in the store, chocolate I ate while still in the mall, and chocolate I would eat later on. I bought enough to feed a platoon for several days, that is to say, enough to last me ’til Tuesday. Maybe. I justified the extravagance by telling myself I might have to trade some of it to a hungry fairy.

  “Hey, no need for that. If your soul is on the market, I can get us a great deal on some heavy hitters from the outer darkness. The wendigo won’t know what hit him.”

  “Neither my chocolate, nor my soul, is going anywhere,” I assured my inner voice.

  “Oh, come on. Have you ever seen it? Touched it? You’ll barely even miss…hey, put that down…mmph mmrrm.”<
br />
  “That’s better.”

  After Ghiradelli, I had to stop by the ATM. I wasn’t out of pocket change yet, but based on my last few shopping experiences since meeting Valente, I would be broke by the time I left the mall. Nothing from the nefarious electronic spaces tried to eat me or my debit card while I used the machine. From there, I went around in a whirlwind of capitalism. I got a new pair of jeans, some new steel-toed boots, a couple of CDs (yes, people still buy those, Internet problems, remember?), a leather duffel bag, titanium-rimmed sunglasses, and a katana. I had no delusions about the quality of the sword, but I was so surprised to see one for sale in a mall that I bought it on general principle. Against some spirits, especially the fae, any steel is better than no steel.

  “Rrhhrrm mmrph.”

  “Yeah, I know. Karmic balance means that against some spirits, steel, regardless of quality, will be worthless. Given my luck, wendigoes will probably fall into that category. Now, shut up, and let me enjoy my last Saturday on planet Earth.”

  The arcade was everything I hoped for. There was a prize counter for trading in tickets earned in the skill games, tons of older machines, and a few of those new-fangled work-out-while-you-play type games. Looking over the prize case, my eye settled on one of the bins and I decided it was time for a little skee-ball. My hand-eye coordination wasn’t what it used be in my Xbox in the dorm room days, but I figured the game out soon enough. I blew through five bucks worth of tokens, racking up what I needed for the item in the case, and had a blast doing it.

  After that, I wandered through the aisles, stopping to play anything that looked even remotely fun: a new Street Fighter, old school Space Invaders, some game with a winged chimp, an alien shoot-em-up game that mixed in cowboys and dinosaurs. I dropped coins in all of them. The pinball selection was not up to my exacting standards, but I played each machine once just to make sure. I was in a generous mood and started leaving an extra token or two on top of each machine when I was done. What good was a dangerous job with a huge paycheck if I couldn’t spend it all?

  I had gotten my inner groove back.

  11

  I forced myself to enjoy a sit down meal at a restaurant that didn’t specialize in early bird specials. I debated a glass of wine, but felt guilty knowing I’d be driving Dorothy afterward. I wasn’t a wine guy, anyway. I hoped Lucien Valente didn’t expect his personal wizard to attend his social parties. I was not much for beer, either, but I doubted that was an issue in his circles.

  After dinner, I drove back to the hotel, dropped off the Necronomicon, half the remaining chocolates, my old boots, and a few things I didn’t think I’d be needing. On a whim, I picked up the hairs I had taken from Duchess after winning the magical phone bet, then headed back to the lake.

  Once I was back behind Dorothy’s wheel, I released the gag from my darker half.

  “Zzzzz.”

  He pretended to be asleep, his idea of revenge for being silenced for so long. I could have used some advice, because there was a possibility that what I had planned was suicidally stupid.

  “Zzzz. Zzzz.”

  I was pretty sure he would wake up if my life were at risk. The fact that he was still pretending to snooze was my green light. If everything went south, I could blame my subconscious for not telling me to stop.

  I took out my prizes from the arcade and my leftover tickets. When I finished writing on the tickets, I folded them up, put them where I wanted them, and inspected my work. In low light, the surface of the beads glittered, but the tickets were nearly invisible. I was satisfied they would accomplish what I needed them to do.

  From the hotel, it was a thirty-minute drive to Lake Thunderbird. I had made it in less than that earlier, but after dark the road was treacherous. I decided I didn’t like these woods at night whether I was on foot or nestled away behind Dorothy’s steel shell. Bad things had happened here. I suspected that was part of what the wendigo liked about them.

  The sign out front said the park was closed, but no physical barriers blocked my progress. I selected a parking spot not easily seen from the main road. I doubted my presence here could amount to anything more serious than a misdemeanor, but I didn’t want to direct unnecessary legal attention my way. The FBI still thought I might be a serial killer in the making and one of their agents might be grumpy post-fae possession.

  I gathered up everything I would need for the ritual into my new duffel bag, along with a few items I wouldn’t. It never hurts to be over-prepared. I headed out into the midnight shadows of the forest, grateful for what moonlight there was. Closer to the lake, the woods weren’t quite so scary, but I still had quite an adventure getting out there. If I hadn’t been able to hone in on my land instinctively, I’m not sure I would have found it. Privacy was part of its attraction, but tough for others to access also meant tough for me to access. It was a necessary evil: I was going to need my sanctuary for what I was about to try.

  Once I got there, I set out my prizes from the arcade first, placing each just inside the watery edge of my domain, making sure the lighting was just right. They were within a hair of the waterline, but they were still on my side and that was what counted. With that trap set, I proceeded to the preparations for the night’s real work. Using the tip of my staff, I carefully drew out a five foot circle, simultaneously syncing it up with my mental representation of the space. Once I was satisfied with it, I pulled my ritual dagger (athame in magic lingo) and carefully carved out the internal markings I would need for a summoning.

  The near-disaster with the gremlin had produced some interesting results and boosted my confidence as a summoner. Magic that didn’t kill me made me smarter. But a magical cellphone, as cool as it was, wasn’t what I had been looking for. I wanted a face-to-face talk with a faerie. I needed a spirit guide, someone who could explain wendigoes and spirit wars to me in terms I was familiar with.

  I had placed all the candles, seventeen in total tonight, and was lighting a stick of incense I had set into the western rock face when my first guest arrived. I felt her fingers, moist but warm, slide down on to my shoulders. I let her rub my back, enjoying the sensation. “I was wondering if you were going to show up, Tia.”

  “Lady Tia, remember?” Her voice was husky with evening shadow.

  I glanced up to see her face behind me. She was young and pretty, thought the aqua green skin would take some getting used to, even at night. She had traded in her bikini top for a more sensible sweatshirt. A trio of mardi gras beads in purple, silver, and gold hung from her neck. “My land, my rules. I am the lord here.” She pouted, so I continued, “But hospitality is important, so I shall call you milady if it pleases you.”

  “It does, Lord Wizard Colin. What brings you back out here this night? Is all of this just to see me?”

  “I have work to do, milady. And I was eager for you to receive your gift.” I gestured toward the beaded necklaces.

  “A gift? No, I found these unattended.”

  “On my land, not yours.”

  A deep frown sank into her lips. “Perhaps you are mistaken. Perchance you brought me similar gifts and I may have found these elsewhere.”

  I nodded thoughtfully. “It is possible. But mine had tags on them.” I pulled one of the prize tickets from my pocket. “They are marks of the fierce battle in the electric dungeon that I had to endure to win milady her gift.”

  She twisted the necklaces around, revealing to her dismay the folded up tickets I had wrapped around each string. She pulled one off and examined it, reading out loud, “Captain Hook’s Funland.”

  “Read the other side,” I suggested.

  She flipped it over. “To Lady Tia, From Colin Fisher.” Her breath came out in a hiss that sounded like water being forced through a rusted pipe. The she slumped. “A gift, then.”

  “Shall we call it splits, milady? A gift for a gift, the land for the beads?” I put an edge to my voice before I finished. “Or are you determined to try to trump the wizard again?”
r />   “A gift for a gift. I’ll behave.” She stared out across the lake. “It’s not like I was going to make you do anything too nasty to square it. I just wanted to tell people that I had a wizard indebted to me. That’s a pretty big deal.”

  “Oh?” I was curious what a lake spirit’s idea of not too nasty was. “And when the time came to collect, what were you going to suggest?”

  “You know, the usual. Give me a human child to raise or get me with child, whatever. Or there’s some boys who keep spitting tobacco juice into me when they’re fishing; you could turn them into worms or something.” She paused. “You know, I could always find another gift for you if any of those options sound appealing. You wouldn’t have to do it right away, you know, let me have a couple years to brag first.”

  I didn’t want to know what sort of repayment Tia thought of as nasty.

  12

  Once Tia and I came to an understanding on magical etiquette (most notably with instructions that she was not to offer me unasked-for gifts in the middle of rituals on my land), she yawned and said she was getting sleepy. I suspected she was disappointed about me getting the drop on her and just wanted a little privacy to sulk. I nodded and told her that was fine, I could handle the ritual from here. She left, but I was pretty sure she was still paying attention to what I was doing. I wondered just how much awareness a lake spirit had regarding the area around her lake. Did she see the whole thing at once or was it a matter of where she was focused at a given moment?

  I eventually ignored the question and returned to my original task. With candles lit, lines drawn, and incense burning, all that was left was to arrange the seven flawlessly white hairs Duchess had given me after the Veruca Wakefield bet. I laid one along each grooved line of the paired triangles. The seventh I wrapped around a chocolate square and placed it dead center of the circle. Using the chocolate hurt, but it was one little square and I knew where the store was if I ran out. I was tempted to add a drop of my own blood, but I resisted. I needed the ritual to work, and I wasn’t an experienced enough summoner to know how the blood magic would interact with it. A line from a nightmare flickered across my mind in Sarai’s dream voice: Blood of a virgin, better be careful.