Whiteout (Aurora Sky Read online

  “We cannot, under any circumstance, contact Harper,” Dante said, shutting me down. “They’ll be watching her constantly.”

  My heart dropped.

  He folded his arms and stared down the road. The sun had dropped below the mountains, leaving behind a far-reaching shadow that covered the cabin and surrounding woods.

  A truck rumbled in the distance, making slow progress along the winter road.

  The truck appeared around the next corner and continued cautiously over the final stretch of road.

  Tommy sat up front beside Giselle. The moment he spotted Dante and me, he placed his front paws on the dashboard and touched his nose to the glass.

  The truck stopped in front of us. Dante reached the passenger door as Giselle turned off the ignition.

  “Hey, boy. You miss me?” Dante scratched the golden retriever behind his ears. “Go on and mark your territory. The place is ours now.”

  Giselle slid out of the truck, pulling a duffel bag after her. Her eyes flicked from the two four-wheelers to Dante.

  “Did you run into trouble?” she asked.

  “Nah,” he said, batting the air with his gloved hand. “Lucked out, in fact. Ran into a couple buddies of mine from the old days. Mission accomplished.”

  Giselle stared at Dante blankly before heading inside the cabin.

  Dante stayed outside, eyes on Tommy as the dog roamed the property, exploring. Despite turning into a human popsicle stick the longer my body stood still, I lingered behind in the cold with Dante.

  Some benefactor Giselle had turned out to be, more like a tagalong. Dante and I were the ones securing lodgings.

  “Does Melcher know about this place?” I asked.

  “Negative,” Dante said, keeping his attention on the surrounding copse. He searched the area with his eyes as Tommy explored with his nose. “That’s the beauty of being a free agent. In the field it’s cut and dry. You only answer to yourself.” Dante smiled slightly. “Melcher was only interested in the end result, not the details.”

  I sucked in a shuddering breath. Dante heard it and turned to me, head tilting, smile still on his lips.

  “Relax. It took the US over ten years to track down Osama bin Laden, and he was the most wanted man on the planet. As long as we keep on the move and lay low, Melcher has about as much chance of finding us as a snowflake in hell.”

  My eyes drifted down to the single gray snowflake stitched into the cream yarn of each pilfered mitten. I’d found them at the last place, not having any gear of my own to ward off the magnifying cold.

  Being compared to bin Laden was a stretch, but somehow the analogy comforted me. Dante had a point though. If the most hated man on Earth could hole up and hide for a decade, we certainly could. Never mind that the evil man had eventually met his demise. But we weren’t the bad guys in this scenario. Melcher was our Osama, and we knew exactly where he was—not that it was any help at the moment.

  “We’ll get him, Sky,” Dante said. “We’ll get them all.” He whistled. “Come on, boy. Inside.”

  I followed Dante and Tommy. The space within the log walls was dim. The room wasn’t all that warm. Dante must have thought the same thing. His feet creaked over the floorboards as he went to the stove, twisting the handle and opening the small furnace door.

  He muttered under his breath before grabbing a log from an iron rack beside the stove. A second and third log quickly followed before he shut the door.

  I walked into the single corner room to see what the sleeping arrangements looked like. Two bunk beds. The two bottom bunks were unmade, a dirty quilt balled up on one and pushed aside on the other. Giselle had purchased three new sleeping bags at an outdoor supply shop, for which I was grateful. Curling up inside my own cozy sleeping bag proved to be the one small comfort at the end of each day.

  One of us would have to take a top bunk. I stepped inside the room to take a closer look. As I approached the bunks, a third quilt caught my eye on one of the top bunks.

  “Hey,” I called.

  “What?” Dante asked.

  He shuffled around the main room. When it was clear he wasn’t coming, I hollered, “I think there’s a third vamp shacking up here.”

  That got Dante’s attention. His footsteps clomped over the floorboards as he joined me inside the bedroom.

  “What did you find?”

  I nodded at the top bunk. “Extra blanket and pillow, looks recently slept in.”

  Dante stepped onto the bed underneath and pulled back the blanket. He felt around before stepping down to the floor.

  Giselle loomed in the doorframe. “Where did the third one go?” she asked.

  Dante smirked. “Maybe baby bear’s gone out for more porridge.”

  My shoulders tensed. “Which means he could be coming back.”

  “Then let him come back. We’ll be waiting.”

  2

  The One Who Got Away

  Dante strode out of the bunkroom. I backed out and joined him beside the stove, my body shivering. Giselle opened a cupboard, looked inside, closed it, then moved on to the next one.

  “I’ll stay up and keep watch tonight,” she stated.

  “Don’t worry,” Dante said. “Tommy’s got his ears open. He’ll take a bite out of any vamp who walks through that door.”

  Tommy lifted his head and wagged his tail after hearing his name.

  “Or we could find a new place to crash,” I said. “One where a hostile vampire won’t walk in and surprise us.”

  Dante frowned. “The sun’s going down. Besides, we still have a duty to take down hostiles, no matter our current status. Tommy will let us know if anyone approaches.”

  Tommy’s tail swung around some more.

  If only I could be as assured by Dante’s voice. I turned to the stove and held my hands half a foot from the radiating heat. Warmth filled my palms. Dante saw me and did the same.

  Giselle replaced the lid on a jar she’d been inspecting and shot a look our way. “We don’t need a fire,” she said. “The cold can’t kill us.”

  Dante rolled his eyes. “Says the Ice Queen.”

  Giselle pursed her lips. A second later she struck a match and lit a kerosene lamp. The flame produced a circle of light on the ceiling, though it appeared less visible through the glass casing blackened with soot.

  I shifted my weight from one foot to the other. The cast-iron tea kettle on the floor caught my eye. A cup of hot tea would warm my insides nicely. The water might not be all that hot anymore, but it should at least be warm from sitting in front of the stove. I pulled the lid up and quickly set it back down. Saliva gathered inside my mouth.

  “Blood,” I announced.

  “At least there’s food in this place,” Giselle said, perking up in the form of an uplifted chin and lips that almost smiled.

  She’d flatly refused the Spam Dante had served up at the last cabin. I had too. Just because I drank blood didn’t mean I had to subsist on meat, and certainly not canned pork.

  “I’ll grab one of the extra cups from the cupboard,” Giselle said, taking note of the two enamel mugs on the floor beside the kettle.

  “We have no idea whose blood that is,” I said.

  Dante’s chest rose. “I may be immortal, but I’m no bloodsucker.”

  “You’re not immortal,” Giselle said impatiently. “Just because you don’t age doesn’t mean you can’t be killed. You know that better than anyone.”

  “And just because I’m ‘undead,’” Dante said, making air quotes, “doesn’t mean I’m a bloodsucker.”

  “Suit yourselves,” Giselle said, moving toward the stove.

  Dante stepped in front of her.

  “Stand aside,” Giselle demanded.

  Dante’s voice rose in challenge. “Or what? You’ll gut me? I’m the only one who knows his way around these parts.”

  “And I need my strength.”

  “Try the hickory-smoke-flavored Spam. You’ll feel like a new woman in no time.”


  Giselle’s eyes narrowed. “You will get out of my way, boy.”

  Their eyes locked.

  Giselle knocked his shoulder as she brushed past him. She bent in front of the stove, pulled her sleeve over her fingers, and used it to grab the kettle’s handle. She might not get cold, but apparently her skin could burn. Once the mug had been filled, Giselle stuck her pinky in to test the temperature. She sucked the blood off her little finger and drank down the rest without pausing for breath.

  “Stubborn old woman.” Dante shook his head and went over to the duffel bag where he pulled out a can of Spam and set it on the scratched surface of the wood coffee table.

  Hunger knotted my stomach. Damn, I’d missed my chance.

  I backed away from the stove and peered inside the duffel to see if there was anything halfway decent to snack on, all the while thinking of the nicely warmed pot of blood and extra mug in front of the fire.

  As tempting as it was, how could I drink blood from an unknown source? What if it had come from a murder victim? I shuddered.

  Giselle refilled her mug and drank it down as though her life depended on it.

  Dante caught me watching her and moved to my side. “She doesn’t have to drink blood. She only thinks she does, like we think we need heat. It gives us comfort, but it doesn’t keep us alive.”

  What if blood was more than a craving? What if we needed it to survive?

  “I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe the reason we’ve been okay without blood is because Melcher had his white coats pumping it into us every month along with our fresh dose of toxin.”

  Fane told me he’d been drawn to blood as though by instinct before he ever knew he was undead. Then again, he also said his friend and roommate, Joss, went without it for years at a time. Maybe Joss was really a closet bloodsucker. Either way, he wasn’t exactly the poster boy for good health.

  “Negative,” Dante said stubbornly. “We can eat, sleep, and drink like any regular person. Maybe I’m undead. Then again, maybe I’m not. If I look the same when I turn forty, maybe I’ll believe it.”

  “We’re vampires, bonehead. Do you really have to wait until you’re forty to figure that out?” I asked.

  “If I ever need blood, I’ll get a transfusion.” Dante pulled the lid back on the Spam, grabbed a fork, and plopped onto the tattered couch where he ate out of the can.

  My feet anchored me in place. Nothing to eat or drink. Nowhere to sit. Since fleeing Girdwood, a lonely ache worse than hunger had taken permanent residence in the pit of my stomach.

  Giselle straightened to her feet. “It’s time to feed Tommy.”

  Tommy thumped his tail on the floor.

  Giselle rummaged through the bag as Tommy moved to her side and stared up at her. “We’re getting low on dog food.”

  “There’s another bag in the truck,” Dante said. “Try topping it with Spam. He’ll love you for life.”

  Giselle gave Dante the stare. It was the same cold, vacant look I’d seen in Melcher’s eyes many times. Maybe it was a vampire thing. Maybe it took years to perfect. Years both Giselle and Melcher had on us.

  “Altering his diet could upset his stomach,” Giselle said.

  Dante’s fork scraped against the can right before he shoveled in another forkful. Once the utensil cleared his lips, he pointed the fork at Giselle. “Are you talking about Tommy or yourself?” he asked between chews.

  My nose wrinkled. Glad I wasn’t kissing those lips. I could definitely pass on a Spam smack.

  “I’ll check the truck,” Giselle said, rather than answering Dante’s question.

  She headed out the door without a coat or hat, Tommy following her outside.

  Once the door closed, I looked at Dante and rolled my eyes. “Giselle, the dog whisperer.”

  He tossed his empty can of Spam onto the coffee table. “Yeah, right. At least she’s making herself useful.”

  “Do you trust her?” I asked.

  “Tommy trusts her,” Dante said. “Besides, we don’t need her. She needs us.” He propped one foot then the other on the coffee table.

  “We need her cash,” I said.

  Despite my misgivings, I did like having our own walking, talking ATM. Thanks to Giselle we had food and supplies.

  “Nah,” Dante said. Stubborn as ever. “We could get by without cash, no problem. If we have to borrow things along the way, that’s just how it goes when you serve the greater good. There are moose and caribou in this area. All I need is a hunting rifle in the winter and a fishing pole in the summer. I can feed us without spending a dime.” He stretched his legs and leaned back.

  I placed my hands on my hips. “I don’t want you to kill animals.”

  “Do you want to survive?” he asked.

  “I can survive on blood.”

  Dante pulled his feet from the table. They made a thump as they hit the floor. “We’re not blood junkies.”

  Dante stormed over to the stove and snatched the tea kettle off the floor. His feet banged against the floorboards as he approached the front door, yanked it open, and threw the kettle outside. He gave the door a shove, slamming us inside.

  Anger flared in my cheeks. “Feel better?” I asked.

  He stomped his way back to the stove. “I’d feel a lot better if that third vamp got his rotten ass over here so I could kill him and toss him out too.”

  “Well, aren’t you tough,” I said sarcastically.

  Dante straightened. “Tough enough to take down every vamp in the state.”

  My hands pressed into my sides. “I guess we’ll see.”

  “Yeah, we will.”

  The front door flew open. Giselle stood in the frame, looking between us. “What happened?” she asked.

  “It’s time to establish some ground rules,” Dante said. “No more drinking blood.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest. “Anything else?”

  “Kill anything that tries to kill you.” He grinned.

  Giselle called Tommy inside. She returned to the duffel bag and set a plastic bowl on the table. The kibble sounded like pebbles hitting the bowl as Giselle poured from a small bag of dog food. She set it on the floor. Tommy hurried over and began eating.

  “I will refrain from drinking in your presence if it makes you more comfortable,” Giselle said while watching Tommy eat.

  “It would make me more comfortable if you didn’t drink at all,” Dante said.

  Giselle stared at him for several seconds.

  “I’m going to bed,” I announced. My arms dropped to my sides as I turned and walked away. I grabbed my green sleeping bag, backpack, and a flashlight from the pile beside the door.

  Dante and Giselle said nothing as I headed into the bedroom.

  It was early for bed. But what else was I going to do? Organize a game of charades? Sing “Kumbaya” and roast marshmallows in front of the fire? I knew what I wouldn’t be doing, hanging around listening to Simon Says.

  I left the door open. Despite my anger, I didn’t want to be shut inside the room alone. I also didn’t want to be on one of the bottom bunks if or when a third vamp showed up. The unoccupied top bunk against the right wall looked like the best out of the four options.

  I pulled the thick comforter from its bag and tossed it on the top bunk. Usually I balled up a sweater to use as a pillow, and I always slept with a gun.

  Down below, I undressed in the dark. I stripped down to my underwear and T-shirt. Using both hands, I reached behind me and unclasped my bra. I pulled the straps off under the shirt and pulled it free through the sleeves.

  The first few nights on the run, I’d slept fully clothed. As the days wore on, I cared less and less if Giselle or Dante walked in and saw me in my underwear.

  I folded my jeans and stuck them inside my backpack. I set my bra on top then peeled off my socks and put them in the bag with everything else. Then I turned on the flashlight, aiming the beam at the wooden ladder. It creaked with each step.

  When I
was halfway up, I smoothed my sleeping bag out before climbing onto the bed. I eased into the sleeping bag, feet first, and zipped myself inside the plush cocoon.

  This was always the hardest moment of my day. This was when I felt most cut off from the world. When I wished for a phone and a way to call Fane. If only I could hear his voice. If only he could hear mine.

  I sank farther inside the sleeping bag.

  It would be a while before I fell asleep, but sleep would come. Even as my brain fought to torment me all night, the cool temperature eventually pulled me under. The cold had become a constant bedfellow.

  Fane had yet to visit me in my dreams. Instead, I brought him to me. I welcomed him inside my sleeping bag. I scooted to the edge of the bag to make room for him. I envisioned his legs entwined with mine, his arms holding me against his chest.

  Zipped up tight together.

  My breath steadied. I squeezed my eyes shut and waited for everything to fade away. Eventually it did. The low voices from the main cabin drifted past my eardrums and dissolved like mist. I never heard Dante and Giselle come to bed. I didn’t hear anything until a low growl woke me sometime in the middle of the night.

  My heart beat steadily from inside my soft cocoon.

  I waited, listening.

  Tommy growled again.

  The bunk across the room creaked, followed by the click of a gun’s safety coming off. Below me, a blade sang as it was unsheathed. That meant Giselle was my bunkmate. Big surprise. Dante obviously didn’t want to sleep above or beneath me—even figuratively. Not after I chose Fane over him.

  My hands slid along the bunk’s edge until it came in contact with my gun. I shoved the magazine in place while lying on my back.

  Weapons ready, an eerie silence settled inside the cabin.

  My heart picked up speed as the seconds passed in silence.

  Man, was I happy I’d chosen a top bunk. I could pop up and take out an assailant before he had a chance to take three steps inside the room.

  A zipper hissed open. The floorboards creaked heavily as Dante swung out of his bunk and stood up. He started out of the room.

  I sat up. “Where are you going?” I whispered.