Whiteout (Aurora Sky

  Aurora Sky

  Vampire Hunter

  Vol. 5, Whiteout

  By Nikki Jefford

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or the author has used them fictitiously.

  Copyright © 2015 Nikki Jefford

  All rights reserved

  www.NikkiJefford.com

  Cover design by ©Phatpuppyart.com - Claudia McKinney

  Cover models photographed by Teresa Yeh Photography

  Cover models: Gabriella, Lee, and Graham

  Cover typography by Najla Qamber Designs

  To find out when the final Aurora Sky novel (volume 6) releases, sign up for an alert by email.

  Table of Contents

  No Man’s Land

  The One Who Got Away

  Intruder

  Search Party

  Wanted

  Home Base

  Battle Attire

  Detour

  Resistance Is Futile

  Date With The Devil

  Ancient Evil

  The Hunter And The Hound

  Misdirection

  Chillers

  Active Duty

  Alias

  Bombshell

  Double Or Nothing

  Time Bomb

  Blizzard

  Blood And Bullets

  Faceoff

  Flight

  Above And Beyond

  Aurora Sky Returns

  Thank You

  Name A Character Contest Winners

  Acknowledgements

  About The Author

  Hope(less) Excerpt

  Runes Excerpt

  For every reader who needs an escape.

  1

  No Man’s Land

  Birch trees bent under the weight of icy limbs, a masquerade in white bark that cloaked the ashen sky. The land had turned pale—from the snow underfoot to the frost clinging to the branches overhead. Ice crystals seemed to surround my very soul, encasing my heart in a bitterly cold grip of Siberian proportions.

  Whoever said it was all about the journey and not the destination obviously had never lived life on the lam.

  The longer Dante and I trekked, the more it appeared the forlorn road bisecting the forest had no end. The inch of snow on the ground was undisturbed, indicating no one had been in or out in the past few days, if not weeks.

  Unlike the previous locations we’d scouted, Dante knew about this one from a prior mission.

  “Are you sure this is the right place?” I asked for the umpteenth time.

  “I never forget a kill site,” Dante said, jaw set.

  All traces of humor had disappeared from my former partner since abandoning civilization. Learning that the agency he worked for was corrupt, that he was the very thing he’d hunted in the past, had a certain dampening effect.

  But the crowning jewel had been when I told Dante my heart belonged to Fane.

  Talk about twisting the knife.

  We walked on opposite sides of the road in tandem. It prevented either of us from having to look at the other.

  Despite my best efforts to keep a safe, steady pace, the tip of my boot caught on a rock. I let out a muffled cry of alarm, arms flying out to steady myself. The snag was minor; I barely stumbled. I wished I hadn’t cried out, but I’d been too startled to shut my mouth in time.

  Dante continued forward without so much as a sideways glance in my direction. A second later he was whistling a merry tune.

  My fingers balled into fists inside my knit mittens.

  “I’m fine, by the way,” I ground out between chattering teeth.

  Again, I should have held my tongue, but cold and fatigue made me crabby, and damn it, when a person cried out, anyone within hearing distance should ask whether she was all right, not start whistling!

  The whistling didn’t stop until Dante reached the end of his tune. His broad shoulders turned toward me.

  “You wanted space; I’m giving you space.”

  “Space, not the cold shoulder,” I said under my breath.

  I stepped over a misplaced branch, watching the ground carefully. I didn’t want Dante to feel obligated to ask after me if I happened to yelp again.

  Dante looked over. “We’re in this together,” he said in a reassuring voice.

  Together and separate—just so long as we weren’t sharing a sleeping bag.

  He’d acted surprisingly calm since stocking up on supplies in Wasilla, treating our exodus into the interior as though it were any old mission. Operation Stay Alive.

  We’d stayed at the last cabin for two nights before Dante said it was time to press on. Now we were outside of Cantwell on the outskirts of Denali National Park. After Jared escaped into the woods by Winner Creek, I had wanted to head east toward Canada, but Dante insisted we go north into familiar territory.

  We continued forward, following the road through the woods.

  A small clearing opened to Dante’s right. An old yellow-tinted fridge stood upright, main door open wide, the inside shot out. The side of the fridge was covered with rusted holes, and empty shell casings littered the ground all around the doomed appliance.

  Welcome to the beautiful Alaskan wilderness.

  The road angled toward the mountains, moving us away from the shot-up fridge.

  The air was stagnant. One big cold spot.

  I resisted the urge to wrap my arms around my body—I needed them for balance over the inhospitable road. We might have to snowshoe into the next place. Wherever—and whenever—that might be.

  The dusting of fresh snow seemed to silence the world. With the solid gray sky overhead, I felt like I was in a padded cell rather than free in the wild.

  I cast a forlorn look over the landscape. “Who knew the color white could look so gray.”

  Dante turned to me, an odd grin forming over his lips. “The sky is gray.”

  I squinted, unsure what had gotten him excited all of a sudden until he busted into “California Dreamin’” from the Mamas & the Papas, voice carrying across the skeletal trees as he sang about going for a walk on a winter’s day.

  This was no casual winter walk. We were on the run from a government agency with unlimited resources and a strict policy against deserters.

  Before I could stop my brain, it chorused back the lyrics Dante sang.

  “Dante,” I said sternly.

  “What?”

  I shook my head. “What happened to stealth?”

  “There’s no one here but us for miles,” Dante said, sweeping an arm in front of the snow-covered road. “We’re in no man’s land. Ground zero. Lost to the world.”

  A lonely ache pulled at my chest. We really were off the reservation. Giselle didn’t even trust burner phones, which meant we were cut off from the world. Cut off from Fane.

  I blinked rapidly as tears swarmed my eyes and froze over my lashes.

  I tried to block Fane from my mind. At least during the day. Just thinking his name was enough to trigger physical pain, like stepping into a steel trap that cut through flesh and bone. Once it got hold, it was nearly impossible to shake off.

  There was nothing and no one to comfort me. I only hoped I hadn’t put Dante through similar heartache. The feelings he projected were ones of bitter disappointment. Blame.

  He didn’t love me as I loved Fane.

  I swallowed down the woolly-mammoth-sized lump in my throat. Survival took precedence over broken hearts and hurt feelings.

  I stopped and sniffed the air. “Do you smell that?”

  Wood smoke. It stirred inside me feelings of campfires, comfort… and impending doom.

  Dante came to a stop beside me, lifting his nose. “Perhaps it’s co
ming from a neighboring cabin,” he said.

  “I thought you said this area was secluded.”

  “It is,” Dante replied as he stripped off his gloves and reached into his holster for the revolver he’d picked up at the Wasilla Wal-Mart. Good ol’ Alaska—where guns and ammo could be purchased with less grief than a pack of cigarettes. Residents would sooner accept polygamy than gun control.

  I pulled off my mittens and stuffed them inside my coat pockets before retrieving Jared’s pistol from the holster around my waist. Giselle had bought the waistband holster for me, along with real bullets, not the blanks Jared had loaded inside the gun.

  Dante and I continued forward, guns in hand, silent as the frozen land around us. The smell of fire increased as we neared, smoke appearing above the tree line.

  Dante inclined his head to the side. I followed him stealthily into the woods. We crept up to a small log cabin. Smoke heaved from a rooftop chimney. Two four-wheelers were parked out front with oversized camouflage duffel bags strapped to the back.

  Dante crouched on the ground, eyes on the cabin. I squatted beside him.

  “I thought you said this place would be deserted?” I whispered.

  He scratched the stubble that had grown over his chin. “Yeah, well, I didn’t think these suckers would be dumb enough to come back.”

  Speaking of dumb ideas, maybe it would have been best to turn around and locate more hospitable lodging. I whispered this thought to Dante, who answered in his everyday speaking voice.

  “Not a chance. We’ve tracked down a couple of bloodsucking killers. Two of them managed to escape the last time I was here. I won’t let them get away again.”

  I licked my chapped lips, which was a mistake. They stung and cracked the moment they dried.

  Since leaving Girdwood, there were two items Dante had failed to grasp or was blindly ignoring. One: we, too, fell under the category of bloodsuckers. Two: we weren’t on a mission; we were on the run.

  One look at Dante’s clenched jaw was enough to tell me we were going in. Stubborn ass. His way or the highway. One of the many reasons I knew my place was with the level-headed, actually listened, and gave a crap about me Fane Donado.

  I exhaled. “What’s the plan? Want me to knock on the door and say I’m lost?” My blood might still have some toxin in it, though I had passed the supposed month-long expiration date.

  Dante sniffed. “Even those dummies aren’t that dumb—I already pulled something similar on them.”

  It was my turn to snort. “Did they take a bite out of you?”

  “The two that did aren’t around any longer. Unfortunately, their friends fled. I tried tracking them through the woods, but they had a head start. I even came back a couple times, but there were never any signs that they’d returned. Until now.” Dante’s teeth gleamed white when he grinned.

  “So what? We go in guns blazing?” I asked. “Won’t that attract even more unwanted attention? What if a neighbor hears?”

  “You saw the fridge. Gunshots in these parts are as common as birdsong—more common, in fact.” Dante stood. “Follow my lead.”

  He moved through the woods quickly. I jumped up and followed. His master plan, it turned out, was to walk right up to the front door and throw it open.

  A cry of alarm reached my eardrums before I’d cleared the threshold and joined Dante inside the cabin.

  Two male vamps in their late twenties stood on either side of a wood stove. One wore a red-and-black flannel shirt, the other had on a faded camouflage sweatshirt. On the floor in front of the stove sat a cast-iron kettle and two empty enamel mugs. What was this? Teatime in the country?

  Dante’s back arched. He stretched the way one might after coming in from the cold to settle in for the night.

  “How nice of you to get the fire going for us,” Dante said.

  “Peter,” one of the vamps cried in accusation.

  Ah, yes, Dante’s suave alias at work once more. Peter Pan. Well, I wasn’t playing Wendy ever again. I was my own woman—one with a gun.

  I lifted my pistol and aimed it at the vamp in camo.

  He sneered. “Whatcha plan on doing with that?”

  “Whatcha think?” I said.

  Dante approached the vamp in plaid, gun at his side. “Told you I’d be back.”

  The vamp in plaid glanced at his companion, who missed the look as his deprived eyes latched onto me. There was no mistaking his expression. He considered me weak and wanted nothing more than to do bodily harm.

  Dante stopped several feet from his prey.

  The four of us faced each other, waiting for someone to make the first move. My heartbeat was oddly stable. I’d felt calmer in these kinds of situations since learning I was a vampire. That, and none of this had quite registered yet. One moment Dante was missing, the next we were joined at the hip, back in action under our own free will.

  If running for my life could be called free will.

  The air stilled. Even the fire inside the wood stove was silent.

  A sudden streak of plaid leapt at Dante before he could fire off a shot.

  I’d been ready for an attack, which made it all the more aggravating the split-second distraction was enough for Camo Vamp to come at me and knock the pistol out of my hand. At least I had time to deflect his fist by ducking as my gun hit the floor. I was in the perfect position to elbow him in the gut, followed by a knee to the groin. The bloodsucking redneck went from clutching one to the other.

  A shot blasted through the cabin. I instinctively crouched, my ears ringing. My steady heart raced with the roar that ripped through the room.

  I looked over quickly. Dante stood, gun in hand, the plaid vampire motionless on the ground.

  I bent over to retrieve my gun. Before I had a chance to stand up, Dante took aim at Camo Vamp. A second bang cracked inside the cabin. Camo Vamp went from doubled over to dead in an instant.

  Dante lifted the barrel of the gun to his lips and blew, grinning wide as he holstered his weapon.

  “Hope you don’t mind,” he said, nodding to the dead vamp at my feet.

  “By all means, if you have a clean shot, take it,” I said, failing to mask my irritation.

  It wasn’t as if I wanted to smoke a vampire. Being stuck with Dante and Giselle day in and day out was fraying my nerves. We were always together. Always on the move. Constantly looking over our shoulders. Turned out freedom wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.

  Rather than respond to my comment, Dante pulled a walkie-talkie from his coat pocket and radioed Giselle.

  “Mission complete. Site secure. Over.”

  “Copy that,” Giselle transmitted in monotone. “Giselle out.”

  I turned my back to Dante so he wouldn’t see my scowl. Our lives were turning into a Sylvester Stallone movie.

  Man, did I miss Fane.

  But until I could get in touch with him, I was stuck with Rambo and the Vulcan.

  “Mind giving me a hand?” he asked.

  When I spun around, Dante had his winter gloves back on. He crouched by the plaid vamp, pulling his limp arms over his head.

  I holstered my gun and bent beside the guy’s legs. Disposal would have been so much easier if dead vampires turned to dust the way they did for Buffy. Luckily the vamp was lanky and not too heavy. Blood stained his plaid shirt.

  My stomach gurgled. It couldn’t be stopped. Dead vampire blood was hardly my first choice, but the sight of it triggered an insatiable craving. I hadn’t had much of an appetite since the onset of our misadventure, but I’d never had a hearty appetite to begin with. At the moment my stomach said otherwise.

  We could live on food or blood or both, so long as our bodies had nourishment in at least one of those forms. Blood had not been available until now, and I was practically salivating at the thought of a taste.

  Dante didn’t seem interested and apparently thought better of keeping the goons around long enough to give Giselle a choice.

  I followed Dante
’s lead to the front door, outside, and around back. Despite walking backward, Dante moved at a brisk pace over the dry snow, fallen trees, and patches of vegetation until we were a good twenty-five feet away from the cabin.

  “This should work,” he said.

  We dropped the body on the ground and headed back to dispose of the second one. Camo Vamp joined his buddy in the woods behind the cabin.

  Dante placed his hands on his hips. “Maybe some wild animals will come around and make a meal out of them. Would serve the suckers right.” Dante didn’t look at me when he spoke. He glanced at the bodies laid side by side, dropped his arms, and headed for the cabin.

  I jogged to catch up.

  “How long are we staying at this place?” I asked.

  “Not long.”

  “How long is not long?”

  “Maybe two or three nights,” he said.

  “And then what?”

  “We move on.”

  “We can’t run forever.”

  Dante swung around, eyes zeroing in on mine. “I’m not running. I’m keeping us safe until we figure out a way to report Agent Melcher.”

  “And who exactly would we report him to?”

  “Sergeant Holmes.” Dante looked past me as though addressing an apparition among the birch trees. He lifted his boot and shook the snow off, only to set it back down in the crystallized powder.

  I rocked in place to keep warm. “Care to elaborate?”

  “Holmes was my drill sergeant at boot camp. Good guy. No way he knows about activities on base. Holmes will straighten things out.”

  My heart gave a flutter of hope. If there really was someone who could hold Melcher and Jared accountable, we could go home. Mom and Gran could come out of hiding. I could request the release of Joss and redeem myself with Fane.

  “How do we contact him?” I asked eagerly.

  Vapor expelled from Dante’s lips as he heaved a sigh. “No idea. I don’t know where the training grounds are located, and it wasn’t like I can look the phone number up.”

  “Melcher would have it,” I said, perking up. “If we got in touch with Noel, we could have her look into it.”