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“Be safe, my daughter. Come back to me. I rather enjoy being a father.” And his eyes crinkled with a smile, even as he frowned.
Stepping back, I turned to Peyton. “Are you ready?”
She nodded. She was driving us to the woods, and we’d call her when we returned. Without another word, we headed out the door. Lainule’s life…or her death…rested in our hands. I intended to return with her salvation, even if everything in my world had to change because of it.
Once again, we stood at the edge of the woods, though it was an area we had not yet been to. It was a good three miles up the road from where we’d begun our journey to the Bat People. Now, on another mission of life and death, we were facing even higher snowbanks than before. Myst’s infernal winter was raising havoc with its blinding storms and ever-chilling temperatures.
Last time, it had been Peyton, Chatter, and me. This time we were five going in, and Peyton reluctantly drove away, leaving us on the side of the road. I waved, wishing she could come with us. She had a good head on her shoulders and a strong back, and the puma inside her was a formidable foe.
“Are we ready?” Grieve looked ill at ease.
“Are you sure you’re up for this?” I gauged his energy, trying to read what he was feeling. Ulean, how is he? Are we too close to Myst for him to accompany us? Will he be all right?
I cannot say for sure, but he seems stable and willing. You dreamed him there, with you. I think he should go, but keep alert should Myst’s pull draw his vampiric nature to the surface.
I sucked in a deep breath and scanned the woodland in front of us. Thick with conifers heavy with snow and large rounded mounds that had to be the undergrowth, the forest was unnaturally silent and eerie. I listened for any sign or sound from bird or animal, but all was quiet save for the hushed fall of the snow as it whirled down around us.
The eternal winter…Fimbulvetr, the winter of winters. Some believed it would presage the beginning of Ragnarök, the destruction of the gods. Looking around us, I could well believe that.
Turning to the others, I motioned for them to follow me, and began to break a trail through the snow. It was rough going at first, but then we came to a place where the snow had reached three to four feet high, and the crust had iced over. It was hard enough to walk on if we were careful. I dragged myself up onto the sparkling surface and set off, following the map that Wrath had sketched out for us after we’d returned from Lainule’s side.
We made good time, walking on the surface of the snow for over an hour without a single sign of a Shadow Hunter, until we came to the edge of a ravine, leading down into a gully where a creek had iced over. According to the directions, we were to head down the side of the hill, then follow the stream for a little over two miles until we came to a wide open glade. There we’d turn right.
The ravine was steep and though it was covered in snow, I knew all too well how many brambles hid beneath the blanket of white, and they had very sharp, very long and hardened thorns. There were also plenty of potholes in which to turn an ankle, and rocks on which to slip.
Glancing at the others, I stepped aside, and Grieve and Chatter quietly took the forefront. This was their wood—they knew it like they knew the back of their hands. Rhiannon and I would follow, and Kaylin would bring up the rear.
Grieve dropped his head back and sucked in a lungful of the icy air. A look of sorrow crossed his face, but he said nothing, simply danced over the edge of the ravine. For him, the snow was no hindrance. He had Myst’s blood in his veins—even though he hadn’t been born to the Indigo Court, drinking from her had given him enough powers to endure the winter she wore like a cloak.
Chatter followed as gracefully as Grieve but a little slower.
My turn. I plunged over the side, immediately wishing I’d stopped to pick up a walking stick. I cast around, looking for anything that would help me balance. Chatter glanced over his shoulder, saw that I’d already stalled out, and quietly whispered to Grieve, who motioned for me to stay put. I waited as they hunted through the tangle of brush and eventually returned with sturdy branches for Rhiannon, Kaylin, and myself. Then, with the added balance from my handy-dandy walking stick, I took another stab at hiking over the edge.
The slope was steep, and the going rough. I stumbled more than once, plowing through the vegetation covered with snow, tripping on hidden roots and rocks, but I was managing the traverse.
Once I went down hard onto hands and knees, my chin bruising as I slammed it against a fist-sized rock. Wincing from the pain, I let Chatter help me up. Grieve watched, a worried expression on his face, but I just wiped away the dribble of blood from the cut and shook my head.
We moved in silence, a chain of figures silhouetted against the hush of the winter landscape. Rhiannon slipped twice, but she landed on her butt, managing not to sprain or break anything. Kaylin was by far the lightest on his feet of the three of us, almost matching Grieve’s and Chatter’s graceful descents.
Ulean swept around me, keeping watch as we made our way down the ravine. She distracted me with her continual gusts, but soon it became comforting to know she was there, and her light flutterings blended in with the surreal march we were on.
Through cedar and fir we passed—their boughs heavy with snow, bending down toward the ground. The only sounds that of our breath as it came in steady white puffs, and the steady slide of boots against the snow as we crunched along the surface.
We’d almost reached the bottom when my foot gave way and I found myself knee-deep in a snowbank. The snow here was looser, not quite so compact, and by the time we reached the stream, even Grieve and Chatter were slogging through the powder. The stream was frozen over, though beneath the icy surface, I could see bubbles. It wouldn’t be safe to walk in the streambed—the ice wasn’t thick enough.
We paused, looking back up the ravine. It seemed more like a mountain than a slope, and I dreaded the return journey. I pulled a protein bar out of my pocket and broke off half, handing the rest to Rhiannon. Chatter and Grieve seemed fine, but Kaylin found a similar bar in his own pocket and devoured it. I chewed the chocolate-flavored crunch and swallowed, then took a drink from my water bottle. After wiping my mouth, I pulled out the map.
“To the right, follow the creek upstream.”
Grieve nodded, leaning in to plant a light kiss on my lips. His razor-sharp fangs glistened in the light of day. He sniffed my neck. “I’m so thirsty for you,” he whispered, the light in his eyes flickering a dangerous shade of desire.
Stepping back, I put my hand on his chest and he caught it, bringing it to his lips. He turned it palm up, and exposed my wrist free from the glove and jacket. Slowly, his dark, starry gaze never leaving mine, he leaned down and lightly nipped the skin. As a thin line of blood welled up, my body responded and I wanted to strip, to pull him to me, to fuck in the snow and ice. But I forced myself to stand still as he slowly began to lick the droplets off my skin.
“We are in Myst’s realm. The feral side of your nature is coming out to play.” I wasn’t trying to stop him—I knew by now that wasn’t a safe thing to do, but I was trying to bring him back to himself.
He paused, his long lashes flickering. After a moment, he drew back with a shudder. “I am not safe here. But there is no turning back. Watch me, Cicely. Chatter—I am relying on your common sense. If you see me slipping too far, get them out of here, away from me.”
Grieve looked so stricken I wanted to go to him, to kiss him, to reassure him that I would never leave him again, no matter what, but I knew now that promises were like burning paper in this world of snow and ice: quick to make but easy to vanish into smoke and ashes. Instead, I pressed my fingers to my lips and held them out toward him. He nodded, understanding.
