Blood Frost (The Half-Demon Rogue Trilogy Book 2) Read online

  Nadia’s apartment sat vacant and unlit next to mine, although it had received a couple coats of paint. It was hard to tell there’d even been a fire just two months prior. The scorch marks on the front steps were the only reminder of Isabella’s mischief.

  With a deep breath, I stepped out of the car and walked up to my front door. It felt weird, like I was an outcast in the only place that had ever been home. Then again, after you hang out with toothless old Miranda for a little while, your social skills tend to evaporate.

  My obsession with the Journal of Annihilation hadn’t helped. The Sol Council and Crimson Conclave both pretended the unrest wasn’t an issue. To my eyes, it was a big fucking issue. The tainted were-blood drug crisis hadn’t hit critical mass yet, but the little pockets of chaos were like embers lurking in a dry forest: if the wind blew the wrong way, the whole thing would ignite.

  Not that my efforts were steering the ship away from the disaster. I had no leads on the three missing artifacts. No ideas on how to get the Remkah Talisman and Carmine Chain back from the Inonda PD’s evidence lockup. I glanced at the apartment’s peeling façade. At least my landlord had replaced the busted door and window from the police raid a couple months back.

  Before I could put the key in the lock, Argos started barking. Dogs and their sense of smell.

  The door swung open suddenly. Gunnar, in all his blond-haired, broad-shouldered glory, stood inside with a smug grin.

  “He returns.” The ancient vampire offered no show of affection during our reunion. Just as well, since Argos had everyone covered.

  My black-and-white border collie came zipping through Gunnar’s legs, almost knocking the tall man over. Tail wagging furiously, Argos leapt into my arms.

  “You got heavy,” I said.

  His tail wagged a little less enthusiastically, but he still burrowed his nose into the crook of my arm and whined. “It’s been two months, Kal.”

  “I know.”

  “I could’ve stayed with you on the lam.”

  “No you couldn’t, buddy,” I said, patting him on the head. I’d tried to bring him along, but he barked and growled at every damn disturbance. His paranoia had driven me crazy after about three days.

  So he’d gotten in some quality bonding time with the ancient vampire. Hopefully Gunnar hadn’t locked him in any cellars this time around. Otherwise I’d never hear the end of it.

  “The dog is happy to see you again, my friend,” Gunnar said. “As am I.”

  “Just don’t jump into my arms.” I gave Argos one final pat before putting him down on the concrete stairs. He contented himself with darting around my shins and rubbing against my jeans, like a hyperactive, oversized cat.

  “I was not planning on such gestures,” Gunnar said. Using his vamp speed, he raced past, down the walk. From the edge of the parking lot, he called, “We are even, now, Kalos.”

  Then he rushed off into the night, leaving me alone with my loyal dog. Argos yipped twice, his pointy ears standing on end.

  “Can we go to the forest?”

  “I thought you didn’t like all this dog shit.” I stepped inside to check on the apartment. Just as I had left it—a barren, untidy mess. A quick inventory indicated that my dining room table, couch, and mattress on the floor were all well accounted for.

  There was a border collie shaped indent in the middle of the bed, though. Apparently Argos had seen fit to move up in the world during my absence. I kicked the mattress aside and toed the ground to locate a loose floorboard near the wall. It rattled. I crouched, lifted it away and rooted around in the crawlspace.

  My fingers touched a spare .45, and I smiled.

  It was good that I kept a back-up for my back-up. Don’t laugh at those people. Someday you’ll find yourself down two guns, needing your third. Or fourth. Get caught without a weapon enough times, and you start making contingency plans.

  “Come on, I want to go to the forest,” Argos said, half-bark and half-yip. “Gunnar refused to take me.”

  “At least he got you back from animal control.”

  “He did.” Argos hung his snout in begrudging acceptance. “I’m glad you’re back, Kal.”

  “Back to the man of wealth and taste thing already? Kind of liked the doggy greeting.”

  In an erudite tone, Argos said, “I have been researching a bit. About the Journal.” His voice dropped into a semi-whisper. “We can talk in the forest.”

  “You’re not gonna ask how I got out of jail?” I said in mock offence as I gestured toward the door.

  “It’s not the first time you got out of jail,” Argos said, bounding down the stairs. “I knew you’d be back.”

  “Fair enough.” I sensed a however lingering in the air. “But?”

  “Things are getting bad here, Kal. I think we’re going to be exposed, sooner rather than later.”

  I followed him into the forest. His tritsy-trot gait confirmed that my deal with Gunnar hadn’t included long nature walks. But after I’d been partially responsible for reducing Lux to rubble, Gunnar had been surprisingly magnanimous with his assistance. Then again, the massive haul of magical essence I’d given him as payment—distilled from the body of Athena the Goddess Killer—had been a good incentive.

  Plenty could be said about me over the years. Much of it probably contained a shard of truth. But I always paid my debts. Even Delphine, my witchy friend, had gotten her payment for services rendered during the good fight against Marrack and Isabella. And Delphine wasn’t the easiest person to track down.

  During the first part of the walk, I filled Argos in on my life over the past two months—and how I’d made my sudden return.

  As we rounded a bend, Argos skidded to a halt.

  “What’s wrong,” I said, my hair immediately standing on end. My head had been on a swivel for the past two months, and old habits died hard. Besides, I wasn’t entirely sure what to think about Sam Reynolds. That old saying about gift horses takes on a different tenor when you actually witnessed the Trojan War.

  “Something smells funny,” Argos said ten paces in front of me, his snout raised toward the tree canopies.

  I sniffed, but detected no disturbance. My senses are better than a standard off-the-shelf human, but suffice to say my nose was no match for a dog’s—magical or otherwise. My eyes began glowing hot at the unseen threat. Last time there’d been trouble in this forest, I’d been attacked by a Marrack-controlled mountain troll and Argos had been caught in a net.

  This time I wouldn’t be caught unaware.

  “Come here.” I knelt and patted my jeans. Argos glanced over his shoulder and shot me a disdainful look. But he came all the same. I wrapped my arm around his neck and stroked his fur. “Tell me what you smell.”

  “You need a shower.”

  “Besides that.”

  His head wriggled underneath my arm. “Perfume. High-end, not that department store crap.” Argos managed to wriggle free, but stayed close. I rose cautiously, scanning the tranquil surroundings for disturbances. Finding none didn’t quiet my paranoia.

  “Isabella?”

  “No. She has more of a night club tramp thing going on,” Argos said with a slight huff.

  “You’re sure?”

  “As sure as I am that Isabella will be the death of us all,” Argos said.

  “You’ve been hanging out with Gunnar too much.” Still, it was a relief to know that Isabella wasn’t lurking in the shadows of the pleasant forest. Taking out the .45, I crept forward. With the half-moon above, it was difficult to see much amidst the dense elm trees. My free fingers brushed against a rock as I slunk through the shadows. Argos padded behind, his collar jingling.

  I gave him a look. He sat down, ears flicking back.

  When I turned around, I almost fired a shot off.

  “Hey dude,” the tattooed woman said with way
too much energy for midnight, “watch where you point that thing.”

  I could sense her analyzing me, even though her eyes were covered by shades that she didn’t need. The designer perfume didn’t gel with her ripped jeans or the sharp, sweeping red hair that hung over one eye. Without bothering to introduce herself, the woman rushed over and gave me a big hug. I could feel her aura as her arms gripped my back. It was old, maybe the oldest I’d ever encountered. Not powerful, but brimming with life.

  “Yeah, dude,” she said, not letting go, “you’re the demon I’m looking for.”

  She let go.

  And then I crumpled to the ground and blacked out.

  4

  I woke up with a start inside my apartment, chest wracked with searing pain. When I noticed my attacker walking around freely, I tried to rise from the couch. Instead, I tumbled straight to the rough hardwood, getting a full view of the plain walls and ceiling on my way down.

  “You fainted, dude,” the woman said, looming over me with her arms crossed. “You gotta take it easy.”

  I grunted, unable to form words. My vision blurred as sweat dripped my temples. These weren’t side-effects of demonic rage—the essence within my blood was quiet. Which was concerning.

  She offered me a hand, then stuck her tongue out when I sullenly refused her help. “Demons.”

  “Kal.” Argos raced into the room, tugging his water dish. Between heavy pants, he said, “Drink this.”

  I managed to prop myself up against the worn couch. After looking at the little strands of canine saliva floating in the water, I almost passed out again.

  “I’m good,” I said with false machismo. “The hell is she doing here?”

  “I, um,” Argos nails clacked against the floorboards as he paced, searching for the right words. “She’s, well—maybe…”

  “I’m an oread,” the woman said, giving no shits about who or who didn’t know.

  “An oread?” I said, opening one eye and raising my eyebrow weakly.

  “Valley nymph,” the woman replied with an eye roll, like I was slow. “Not exactly known for our murderous tendencies. Or heart-destroying black magic.”

  “You said I fainted.”

  “Dude,” she said, tossing her dive-bombing red hair back. “I wasn’t gonna spring hey, I think you might be dying on you right when you woke up. That’s way dick.”

  My heart thumped, and I swallowed hard. “But you’re okay with it now.”

  “Truth’s gotta come out sometime,” she replied with a shrug. “Might as well be now. Us valley nymphs are an honest sort, you know?”

  “Explains what you were doing in the forest,” I said, drifting into a brief state of semi-consciousness. Then my eyes flashed open when I remembered her greeting. She stared down at me, with a look of intense curiosity. “If you were looking for me, why were you wandering in the fucking forest?”

  “I got distracted,” the woman said with a carefree shrug. “It’s a beautiful forest, man. You should spend more time out there.”

  Argos growled his approval.

  I dry heaved.

  After a series of deep breaths, I managed to get to my feet, only to be felled seconds later by another shooting pain through my rib cage. I writhed on the ground, certain that my heart would explode straight through my breastbone.

  “Kal!”

  My head slammed against the floor like a beached fish. Gritting my teeth, I tried to stop the shaking. But the seizing continued, with me helpless to stop it. My mind remained lucid, though, despite the physical trauma. And, deep within my chest, with a sinking sensation, I recognized that this was worse than any disease.

  This was magic.

  And only one person could be responsible.

  A cooling hand swept across my rib cage, and the pain dissipated. The touch was accompanied by a mantra in a language that I didn’t recognize. Breathing heavily, I looked up at my savior. The woman patted me on the sternum and then cracked her knuckles, like she was bored.

  Nymphs and their healing magic. Good thing she was around. Few people were stupid enough to antagonize a demon. It just so happened that a very angry, super-powerful witch who used to love me was one of them.

  I had my hands full with Isabella Kronos. Too bad I promised never to kill her. That would make things a hell of a lot easier.

  I heard the woman’s voice say, “It’s definitely a curse.”

  “What kind,” Argos replied, his voice faraway, almost dreamy.

  Witch, I tried to say, but my mouth was dry and I couldn’t speak.

  “I haven’t seen a spell like this in many moons,” the woman said. “It’s a real kick to the balls.”

  “Really?”

  “Figure of speech. I could tell you what we call it.”

  “I don’t know the language,” Argos said.

  “You know a lot of things, though, don’t you doggie?”

  I heard Argos’ tail thump against the floor, ever the sucker for a compliment. “Some.”

  Modesty will get you nowhere in this world.

  The woman replied, “Roughly translated from the ancient tongue, it’d be called the Destroyer of Former Lovers.”

  “She’s severing whatever bond they might still have,” Argos said.

  “Yes. While crushing his heart in the process,” the woman said. “He must have made her very angry, dude. Like super pissed off.”

  I groaned and retched. The conversation stopped as they tended to me.

  Under normal circumstances, that type of spell would probably drive a supernatural creature’s heart straight through its eyeballs and send its intestines through its nostrils. But demons were challenging to kill with spells of vengeance and hatred. Our very existence was fueled by the stuff, making us especially resistant.

  One of the few perks of being a demon. Using our hair, blood or other biological matter against us was such a huge pain in the ass that most didn’t even try. Hell, the kickback from a curse like this had to smart like a motherfucker. It could kill a lesser witch outright.

  Too bad I wasn’t dealing with a lesser witch. Isabella was off somewhere, fueled by the humiliation I had handed her and Marrack at the abandoned gas station. Perhaps she was calling my bluff regarding her blood. A shot across the bow to see if I would retaliate.

  Or it was a way of making me her bitch—a twisted idea of servitude—before I inevitably died. Demons weren’t like vamps. Cutting out our hearts wasn’t the best way to kill us.

  Isabella just wanted to.

  The woman cleared her throat and stroked my face, jarring me from thoughts of ex-girlfriends.

  “So, demon seeker.” I stared at the ceiling while my senses sorted themselves out. “You got a name?”

  “Ziva,” my new companion said. “And I’m here about a problem.”

  “Not just to play nurse?” I said, fatigue overtaking me. “You have a future in the profession.”

  “Like this?” Ziva knelt and straddled me. Then she slapped me hard in the face. “It depends on if you like it rough.”

  Then she smiled and laughed, melodic and light.

  “That, um—yes?” The situation was all very confusing. That’s what happens when you go from agonizing pain to strangely aroused in less than thirty seconds. The body wasn’t built for these type of extremes.

  Ziva leapt up, giving me a wink. “Then good. Because we have a problem that could get rough.”

  “We?” I said, liking the situation less already. I wasn’t in the market for new partners. Sam Reynolds forcing his way on to my client list was enough for the time being. After struggling to my feet, I made my way to the kitchen and got a glass of water.

  “Yeah dude, and it’s called the Talon of Frost.” Footsteps squeaked against the dusty wood. “See you tomorrow.” I turned around just in time to watch the
front door slam shut.

  “I think I’m hallucinating,” I said, bringing the water to my lips. “Because I swore she just said Talon of Frost.”

  Argos padded into the kitchen. “The plot thickens.”

  I drank and wiped my chin. “Great.”

  “She seems nice.”

  “That’s what I’m worried about,” I said. “Because appearances can be deceiving.”

  5

  Argos insisted I go to sleep. I phoned Gunnar before I did, convincing him to retrieve the trailer—and, most importantly, the Journal of Annihilation. I told him to scrap the trailer for parts and just drop the leather tome off. Maybe Argos could make progress where I couldn’t.

  Then I hit the damn mattress like a sack of bricks wearing cement shoes.

  It was well past noon when I awoke. On the nightstand next to my bed, a manila folder marked CHARON’S WILL sat askew. A key to his condo lay on top, along with a brief note from his lawyer.

  It’s yours now. Just keep up with the taxes. – Remington Landry, Esq.

  Bleary-eyed, I pocketed the key. No idea when I’d get a chance to check the place out—if ever. But no point in letting it sit around.

  Stumbling out of the bedroom and into the kitchen, I saw Argos sleeping on the table next to the Journal of Annihilation. The ancient leather book was open face-down. A thin strand of drool clung to the dog’s black snout, forming a little pool on the wooden surface. Guess Gunnar had come through and Argos had been burning the midnight oil. Good vamp, that Gunnar.

  Still half asleep, I hit my knee on the refrigerator door and cursed.

  I heard a collar jungle as Argos rolled off the table and crashed to the ground in a furry heap. Letting out a brief moan, he limped into the kitchen and glared at me. Then, exaggerating his injury, Argos hobbled back to the dining room table with his tail between his legs.

  “There’s an invitation for you in here, Kal.”

  “Invitation?”

  “Found it on the front steps before I went to sleep.”

  I followed him to the table after making a cup of instant coffee. After taking a sip, I was fully awake, the acrid, bitter taste doing more for me than caffeine ever could. Next to the leather book sat a little invitation in a formal envelope.