His Touch of Ice Read online

  It was just a dog. How bad could it hurt?

  I had just located a stone centerpiece atop a nearby table when I heard the stairs creak behind me.

  I froze.

  The huff of air from its mouth sent the smell of raw meat through my nose.

  I turned my head to the side just in time to catch a massive, five-fingered claw scraping across the bottom stair and slinking out of sight.

  Trembling, I felt my way back along the door.

  There had to be a doorbell, had to be a doorbell, had to be a—

  My elbow hit the button.

  The creature vaulted onto the porch and roared.

  I didn’t bother to try and see what it was. I just turned and ran.

  The creature pursued me across the porch at a pace I knew I couldn’t match. Paws slapping on the woodwork, mouth twisted into an open snarl, I cast what little furniture there happened to be in its way before vaulting over the railing.

  My high school track training should’ve prepared me for this.

  Instead, my foot caught in one of the rungs and I whipped forward, cracking my head along the railing before falling onto my shoulders, then flipping onto my back.

  Stars danced across my vision.

  I only just barely managed to sluggishly roll to the side before the creature could jump on me.

  It lunged.

  I smashed the centerpiece into its face.

  The creature’s head slammed into the side of the house before realigning and centering directly on me.

  Lupine—

  Its eyes—

  I slammed the stone object down between its eyes with all I could muster before taking it in both hands and crushing its snout.

  Blood and bone matter spattered my face.

  I stumbled back, breathless, and dropped my weapon, landing flat on my ass with enough force to send a stab of pain through my spine.

  The thing was dead—twitching, but dead.

  Nearby, I heard a door open and then the slap of feet across the porch.

  “Jason?” Guy asked. “Is something going—”

  He failed to finish as he took in the scene.

  “I got it,” I smiled, my laugh fractured by the nausea that spun about my head. “I got that fucker.”

  “Jason! Jason!”

  I fell back on the soft, warm grass and closed my eyes.

  Sleep was bliss.

  “Did he get bit?” someone asked.

  “Move over,” another replied.

  “He didn’t get bitten!” Guy cried out. “I told you already! Get the fuck away from him before I—”

  My eyes cracked open, then immediately shut as a blinding light slashed into my vision.

  I groaned.

  “Jason?” Guy asked.

  The hand was familiar once wrapped within mine. I squeezed with all I could muster and forced myself to adjust to the lighting, only satisfied with my progress when I could see Guy’s face above me. “Hey,” I said.

  “God, Jason. What the hell were you thinking?”

  “What do you—”

  A door burst open. I was suddenly aware of my nudity as Elliot Winters approached.

  “What’s going on here?” he asked.

  “He was attacked,” Guy said, turning his eyes on his father, “by a Howler.”

  The man narrowed his eyes. “Is he bitten?”

  “What?”

  “I said—”

  “I heard what you said!” Guy snapped. “What the fuck is wrong with you? I thought you said you’d tell him to stay inside!”

  “I was leaving that up to you.”

  “You asshole!” Guy screamed. “You told me you would do it! I was the one who wanted to bring him with us!”

  “And I was the one who told you that our family’s secrets are not to be openly displayed.” Elliot’s eyes fell on me. “Now someone tell me: has he been bitten?”

  “No sir,” a short, African-American woman said beside me. “He wasn’t.”

  “And you’re sure?”

  “He would’ve displayed characteristics already. Look.” She pried one eye open for the world to see and waited until Elliot examined me before releasing her hold. “He’s without the lined iris. He wasn’t bit.”

  “Then what’re all these then?” He gestured to the side. “Blood? Bone? On his clothes?”

  “He had to fight it off.”

  “Because you didn’t warn him,” Guy growled. “What're you trying to do, turn him into a Howler?”

  It looked like the senior Winters would strike. He seemed to take note of the scene it would cause and held himself at bay as Amadeo approached with a robe, gesturing me upright as he wrapped it around my naked body.

  “We’re not going to fight about this now,” the woman who’d tended to me said. “The young man needs rest, and neither of you are doing anything to help.”

  Elliot said nothing. She jabbed a finger in Guy’s direction with accusatory eyes. “You—take him to your room. Make sure he’s cared for.”

  “Yes, Faith,” Guy said. He shrugged up beside me and laced an arm across my back. “Can you walk?”

  “Just… give me a minute.”

  He helped me to my feet and let me gain my bearings. The hard, linoleum floor was cold, but helped ground me as we made our way out of the room.

  Immediately upon our departure, the room broke out into argument.

  “Ignore them,” Guy said.

  I couldn’t do much else. I simply allowed him to lead me through a part of the house I’d never seen before, then up the stairwell to his flat.

  Once in his room, he settled me down on his bed and ran a hand across my temple, careful to avoid the spot where I cracked it on the railing. He wouldn’t meet my eyes even when I took hold on his hand.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  “My father was supposed to tell you to remain indoors after it got dark,” he said, the muscles in his forearm tense—rigid with anger. “He told me that I couldn’t bring you with me to meet her because it would be seen as improper and disrespectful.”

  “To see who?”

  “The Kelda.”

  I shuddered. Whether the result of a concussion, I couldn’t be sure, but I drew my legs closer to my body and forced my eyes shut as a wave of nausea hit.

  “Do you—”

  “Why didn’t he tell me?”

  “I don’t know,” Guy said, his voice still strained with grief. “Fuck, Jason. I’m so mad. I just wanna go down there and rip his fucking—”

  “Don’t.” I sniffled. The tears streaming down my eyes burned worse than the pain in my head. “Please. Just… don’t. No more fighting. It’s done. Over. There’s nothing you can do about it.”

  “Nothing I can do? I’m his son, his prince. If he wants me to do anything, he’s going to treat me and the man I love with respect.”

  “What?”

  Love?

  I opened my eyes.

  Gone was the rage on his face. Instead, it was replaced with something I’d yet to experience—sadness.

  I realized this was the first time I’d seen Guy cry.

  “When I saw you out there by that… thing… I thought…” He stuttered. He gasped and bowed his face into his hands. “God, Jason. I thought it got you.”

  “I’m ok,” I said. “Really. It’s ok.”

  “No it’s not. All my parents ever wanted was for me to settle down and find someone I cared about—to put my whoring days around and act like the man I was supposed to be. And when I finally do bring that man home… when I finally am settling down… you get treated like a sack of shit.”

  He managed a stuttering exhale and then a fragmented inhale before he took the deep breath I knew he needed. He palmed the tears from his eyes and looked over at me, his peace destroyed by the night’s events.

  He spread out alongside me and took me into his arms.

  Outside, the world continued on.

  I laid in bed almost the whole day
. Several times, Guy came in to check on me—pressing a palm to my forehead, offering me water, coercing me into eating. Otherwise, I was completely alone.

  What little sleep I had was shattered by nightmares—of a thing with steel-sharp teeth and yellow eyes bearing down upon me.

  Eventually, I just gave up and simply laid there, staring at the wall, resting my eyes.

  The door opened later that afternoon. Two pairs of footsteps echoed across the flat and into the bedroom just in time for me to cover myself and hide my modesty.

  “Jason?” a voice asked.

  I opened my eyes. The same woman who’d treated me last night stood at the end of the bed, Guy at her side. “Yuh-Yes?” I managed.

  “How are you feeling?”

  “Fine. Better, really.”

  “You care if I take a look?”

  I responded with a nod and rolled onto my back to give her easy access to my head. Her fingers—long, gentle, flecked with the hint of ice I once related to Guy—probed the site of my injury with careful attention to detail, nodding when she found something notable in her pursuit.

  “How is it, Faith?” Guy asked.

  “It’s a concussion,” the female Kaldr, Faith, said. “But he’s doing exactly what he should be—resting.”

  “Thank you for coming up here, Faith. It means a lot to me.”

  “You don’t have to thank me. This whole thing was a big misunderstanding and I—”

  “Who was the werewolf?” I asked.

  Faith and Guy turned their eyes on me.

  “The werewolf who attacked me,” I continued, struggling to push myself up. “Who was it?”

  “Now’s not the time,” Guy said, starting toward me.

  “I wanna know who almost killed me. Now.”

  The two Kaldr looked at one another, Faith’s expression completely indicative of her position.

  Finally, Guy said, “It was Missy Sue.”

  “Missy Sue?” I frowned.

  “The one you talked to. In Fredericksburg.”

  She’d been so interested in my arm. Did that mean that she—

  “She must’ve caught your scent,” Guy said when I opened my mouth to speak, “and followed you back here.”

  “Does she know who you are?” Faith asked. “Or that the two of you were even together?”

  “I’m not sure. Jason said she showed interest in him and that she’d been hauled off by the police after he managed to slip away.”

  “It’s true,” I said when the healer’s eyes fell on me. “I swear, I would never intentionally lead anyone here.”

  “It’d be pretty stupid to put yourself in the line of danger if you were really intending to go after someone else,” Faith agreed. She pursed her lips and scanned the immediate area, taking in the display of princely objects around us, then settled her eyes back on me. “I’ll let Elliot know what we think happened. You get some rest, Jason. Don’t get out of bed. You took a pretty bad blow to your head and you wouldn’t want to strain yourself.”

  “I won’t,” I said. “Thank you.”

  Faith bade the two of us goodbye, then made her way through Guy’s flat until she left out the front doors.

  “I fucked up,” I said. “Didn’t I?”

  “A long time ago, there was an agreement made that the ‘Big Three’ wouldn’t interfere with each other’s dealings in the mortal realm. That meant no contact, no organized crimes, and definitely not any attacks on each other. Of course, there’s never really been anyone to enforce that rule, but none of us really gave much thought to it. We just obliged. Maybe it’s a Texas thing. Who knows? We’re all dying species. Doesn’t take an idiot to realize just how damaging a little human contact could be.”

  “So what about Missy Sue then? Now that I killed her?”

  “Missy Sue was a rogue agent whose alpha couldn’t control her. It was bad to even flirt with the idea of taking in a human who hadn’t been indoctrinated into their pack, but to turn someone known for tall tales? I mean, yeah—fat chance of anyone believing that she’s a Howler, but get suspicious about where she’s been and how’s she’s going there? That’s just flat-out stupid.”

  “You never answered my question.”

  “Which was?”

  “What’ll they think now that a member of their pack’s dead?”

  “Collateral. Nothing more.”

  I crossed my arms over his chest and considered Guy’s face. Harshened by the severity of the confrontation, it’d lost much of its boyish youth and instead replaced it with fine lines. I could always tell when Guy was angry, or at least unsettled by something. He looked like a completely different person.

  “You’re not lying to me,” I said, unsure if I was treading on solid ground, “are you?”

  “No. Why would I be?”

  “To protect me, I mean. From… this.” I spread my arm about the room.

  “Come on—you’ve seen me freeze a guy to death and form a crystal of ice out of thin air.”

  “Not out of thin air,” I corrected. “I saw the water droplets crystalizing as we were falling toward the fountain.”

  “Either way, you’ve seen shit that’d blow most people’s minds—and get ninety-five-percent of them thrown into the loony bin.”

  I chuckled. “I guess human ignorance is an easy cover for your kind, huh?”

  “Trust me,” Guy smirked. “You have no idea.”

  “You’re… alive,” I said, running my fingers down the trail of blonde hair along his abdomen. “Right?”

  “Yeah,” Guy said. “Don’t you hear my heart beating?”

  It was a low staccato beneath the fine expanse of his chest. Thump thump, thump thump, thump thump, thump thump. The life there was palpable—comparable to the rise and fall of our chests—but for some reason there was always that lingering question in the back of my head, the one that caused common logic to falter in favor of the supernatural aspect of Guy’s existence.

  Guy was freezing cold. He fed off the body heat of humans to sustain himself. He could bleed, yet never die from age. The mixed contrast there was baffling. Before, I’d never even heard anything about the Kaldr, let alone a race of Norwegian ice-people who could possibly resemble them.

  I rolled over and straddled Guy’s chest with elbows to look him in the eyes.

  “Why’d you ask that?” he said, voice faint with strength, but attention fixed and centered on me.

  “I’m not sure,” I said. “Maybe it’s the concussion. I just wanted to know.”

  “You can ask anything you want, Jason.”

  “I know.”

  Guy smiled and slid an arm out under me, cupping one hand along my hip and curve of my ass. “It’s kinda surprised me how relaxed you’ve been about the whole thing.”

  “I didn’t want to bother you.”

  “Well… ask me now, then?”

  I settled back down beside him and took hold of his hand, feeling the rough, fresh callouses on his palms as I laced our fingers together, then proceeded tentatively—unsure if his level of alertness would allow for such a detailed conversation. Eventually, I fell into full swing, and asked everything I could think of.

  They fed off the warmth of human beings—only human beings. The sun offered some comfort, as did heat, but was nothing in comparison to the primal energy drawn from the flesh of a victim. Arteries and major sources of blood flow were particular candidates during feeding—the neck, the wrist, and, he so humorously added, the man’s penis. He made a snide remark about that being the reason why he was able to give such great head before saying that his manipulation of water depended entirely on the amount thereof and if he could manipulate the air around it. Humidity was good for that, he said—snow even better, which they could control complete and outright.

  “But you can kill people,” I said.

  Guy nodded.

  He described it like feeding—monstrous, uninhibited, an adrenaline rush even the greatest sex on the most illegal drugs couldn’
t give you. Though he could kill that way, he said, the person would only resemble a pale version of themselves—not like the frost-bitten, near-gangrene appearance my assailant had developed.

  “That was from giving,” Guy said.

  “But if you can kill the same way by taking, why not take?”

  “Because that requires oral contact.”

  I nodded and bundled against his side, content with his warmth and the peace of the situation.

  “But if you need people to feed off of,” I said, “and there’s only Kaldr here… how do you—”

  “Sex.”

  I tilted my head up.

  “Given that we’re still partially human, we have the innate need to fuck around. The friction between two people—even two Kaldr—is the second best source of energy compared to feeding.”

  “Is that why you were so eager to jump me in the shower?” I chuckled.

  “Nah. I just wanted to fuck you,” Guy grinned. “Besides, Mr. Saintly—I recall you being the one who went down on me.”

  “It’s ‘cause you’ve got a big cock.”

  “That I do,” Guy laughed.

  He settled his arm around my shoulders and tilted my head so his brow was buried in the tufts of my hair.

  He didn’t say anything afterward.

  His breathing indicated sleep.

  I closed my eyes and breathed.

  “The Kelda wants to see you,” Guy said.

  I raised my head from buttoning my shirt and stared at him. “What?” I asked.

  “Tonight. After dark.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. That’s all my father told me.”

  I faltered in my attempts to continue buttoning my shirt and eventually decided to just leave it halfway undone. Seating myself on the bed, I started to reach for my shoes, but remembered I’d developed the habit of taking them off by the door and shook my head, dreading the fact that my nerves were getting the best of me.

  “It’ll be ok,” Guy said, settling down beside me.

  “Where?”

  “Below the house. There’s a hidden entrance into what my father calls the ‘Security Compound’ directly beneath the rug in the front living room, though if you ask me I call it the ice box.”