Blood Winter (10 page)

The leader looked Max up and down and then did the same to Tyler before turning back to Max.

“Name’s Liam,” he said by way of introduction.

“Max,” she said. “This is Tyler.”

He held out a grenade. “It’s the last one. Know how to use it?”

“Pull the pin and get out of the way.”

“That’s about it.”

She took it. “Thanks.”

“I want these motherfuckers dead. If you can do it, I’ll give you anything you want.”

“Careful,” Tyler said. “Shouldn’t say things like that if you don’t mean them. Magic is very literal.”

The other man eyed him, his eyes narrowing. Finally, he nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind. Do the two of you want some help?”

“We’ll manage,” Max said. She motioned for Tyler to join her, and they headed for the sac.

“Who did you just call?” Liam asked suddenly.

Max glanced back at him and grinned. “The Wicked Witch of the West. Who else?”

T
HE GRIMS WERE NOT EASY TO FOLLOW. IF NOT
for Alexander’s extended spirit senses, he and Thor would have lost them more than once. The snow deadened smells and covered tracks. Not that the truck could go where the Grims could. They were traveling across the mountains in a straight line toward—

Somewhere.

They could be going to New York or Florida for all Alexander knew. Or even Antarctica. He did not doubt that the beasts could easily travel across the ocean. Spike, however, might slow them down.

Colored flickers marking living creatures danced across the landscape, which spread out from Alexander in a ghostly overlay of reality. What he saw in his mindscape went miles farther than he could actually see with his eyes. He tried to distract himself with the play of colors, but he could not forget about Max.

“You want to talk about it?” Thor asked as they drove through Hamilton toward Salmon.

Alexander stilled his hands. He had been tapping his fingers restlessly since they left Horngate. His Prime was on edge. “Talk about what?” he asked, feigning confusion.

His friend eyed him sideways. “You know, old son, it don’t take a genius to spot a goat in a flock of sheep,” he said. “What’s going on with you and Max?”

Just like Thor to drive a blade right into the heart of the matter. Alexander went back to tapping. “Nothing a frontal lobotomy would not cure,” he growled.

“That good, eh?” Thor shrugged. “Well, nothing worth having comes easy, and Max definitely ain’t easy. Question is if you think she’s worth the trouble.”

“I am beginning to wonder,” Alexander said, staring out the window. He felt Thor’s startled stare like a slap.

“Are you shitting me?”

His lips curved slightly. “Maybe. Probably.” He dragged his fingers over his scalp.

“What’s wrong?”

“She keeps pushing me away. Only time she seems to want me around is in bed, and then it seems like all she is trying to do is forget about Niko and the angels. I could be anybody.”

“But you aren’t. She picked you.” Thor was silent a moment. “She’ll figure it out and come around. You just have to be patient and wait.”

“For how long?”

“The way you feel about her, forever might be just long enough,” Thor said.

Alexander rolled down the window and leaned his arm on the sill. The air was back to being unseasonably warm. Drizzle dampened his skin. Forever. That was a hell of a long time to wait.

JUST BEFORE CROSSING INTO IDAHO, THOR TURNED EAST
toward the Big Hole, following the path of the Grims. They kept their lights off, and thanks to magic, they made no sound at all. The truck’s engine had been replaced with a tangle of gold filaments wrapping a chunk of silver. The whole thing was no bigger than Alexander’s fist. It was held suspended in the middle of the engine compartment by lengths of plastic twine. Its magic was strong enough to overcome the magic-smothering effect of the truck’s steel body.

Driving silently kept them from the notice of human predators. It did not, however, keep them safe from rock trolls, as it turned out.

The road ribboned through a series of small valleys and meadows following a swift-flowing river. Although Alexander could see spirit flames for both animals and magical creatures, they were largely left alone. Right up until they started dropping down into the Big Hole—an enormous flat valley in the northern Rockies.

The road exploded in front of them. Concrete, blacktop, and dirt spewed up into the air. Thor swerved and slammed on the brakes. They skidded and spun in a circle, stopping sideways on the road, road debris hailing down on them. The windshield shattered, raining down bits of safety glass. The roof dented inward as a massive chunk of concrete bounced off it.

There was now a crater more than twenty feet across where the road had been. Inside it stood a rock troll. It stood tall as a house at the shoulder, with great hulking shoulders and what appeared to be a boulder for a head. The beast looked as if it had been rudely molded out of still-warm rock and left to harden, and then someone had jabbed holes in its face for eyes and stuck bits of jagged quartz in its mouth for teeth. Its chest was bigger than their truck and each hand and foot could have crushed them with one blow.

“This could get ugly,” Thor said, tipping his straw hat back on his head.

“It could,” Alexander said, opening his door. “But maybe it will be fun.”

“Now you sound like Max. Can’t we go around it?”

“They are faster than they look. It can run more than eighty miles an hour for short bursts. We will not get far.”

“And the news keeps getting better. Since you know so much, how do we kill it?”

“I have no idea. Explosives might work. Or they could just make it mad.”

“It already looks plenty pissed.”

“See what you can rig. I will distract it,” Alexander said, moving away from the truck and down toward the open field and the river below. Maybe the rock troll would not like running water. He should be so lucky.

The troll swayed back and forth, its attention flickering between Thor and the truck and Alexander. At last, it made a decision. With one heaving motion, it vaulted out of its hole and galloped after Alexander on all fours, the ground shaking each time it planted those massive hands and feet.

It was far more nimble than it looked. Alexander swerved to the right around a stand of birch and aspen trees. The troll followed easily.

Alexander threaded through a series of rocky outcroppings. He was going for higher ground. The one thing besides explosives that might damage the rock troll was a fall.

The troll bounded up onto one of the massive boulders and leaped after Alexander. It sailed through the air and when it landed, the ground shuddered and bucked. It would not be a remotely good idea to get hit by that beast.

A rock the size of Alexander’s head bounced on the ground beside him. Too damned close. He dodged into a knot of blue spruce and sprinted up through the trees. The rock troll bellowed, a deep, guttural sound that echoed down the valley. Branches snapped, and wood squealed and whined as the troll plowed through trees.

The moment’s respite gave Alexander time to think. He had led the rock troll away from the truck to give Thor a chance to rig an explosion, but now he was too far away to get back before the beast overtook him. That left him with only one real choice: jump off the bluff into the river. The troll would likely follow. With luck, it would break apart. If not, Alexander was fairly certain the beast could not swim, which might give him a moment or two to get away. The river offered little safety if running water did not bother the creature. The troll could probably wade or run along the bank until it could snatch Alexander out.

He cleared the spruces and lunged up onto the top of a small escarpment, about ten feet up. Behind him, the troll swiped its stone paw through the air. It knocked into one of Alexander’s ankles. He felt bone break, and his foot and leg went numb.

Alexander landed heavily on his stomach. The breath exploded from his lungs. He sucked in air as he dragged his knees up to lever himself upright. The rock troll was already clambering over the lip of the ledge. It gnashed its teeth together, and it sounded like stones in a metal grinder.

Alexander looked up. He had hoped for another forty or fifty feet of elevation. The drop to the river bottom was less than a hundred feet. He could survive that, which meant the odds were good the rock troll could, too. But he had little choice left. His foot dangled from his shattered ankle, useless. He would not heal in time to get any higher. His only route now was down.

He looked behind him. The rock troll was crouching down, shaking itself like a bull. It pawed at the chalky dirt with both massive hands, shoveling it up over its head. A cloud of dust filled the air. Alexander eased back slowly, searching for the edge. As fast as the beast could move, he needed to make sure he could leap out of reach before the troll snatched him out of the air.

More dust puffed upward. Taking the chance that the troll might have temporarily blinded itself, Alexander stepped backward. He landed just twenty feet below on a narrow ledge. He squelched a cry of pain as hot agony speared up his leg and spine. He made a staggering run to the end of the shelf and launched himself out over the river, just as the rock troll bellowed its fury at its prey’s escape.

Alexander crashed into the river. It was like hitting a steel wall. Bones cracked, and his lungs pancaked. He slid under the icy water and bounced against several boulders. He spun and could not tell up from down. Seconds passed like minutes. Everything inside him demanded air. He kicked and clawed upward, only to find himself grabbing silt at the bottom of the river. He turned and shoved upward with all the power in his good leg. He broke through and dragged in a shallow breath. It was all he could manage.

He slewed around, searching for the rock troll. It had landed beside the river. One of it arms was twisted wrongside around, and it looked like its head had shifted to the right. The fact that it could be hurt offered some hope that the explosives would work. If Thor could get anywhere near it.

The troll heaved itself up and lumbered along the bank after Alexander, dragging its damaged arm. It uprooted a clump of desert sage and threw it, followed by chunks of wood and stone—whatever it could reach. Each time it threw something, it had to slow down. In the meantime, Alexander swam as fast as he could downstream. His body was sluggish, and he could barely kick. His arms were both broken, and it was all he could do to force them through the water.

But with the river’s swift current and his own efforts, he was able to keep ahead of the troll, although avoiding the creature’s missiles was much more difficult. One rock slammed into his shoulder. It crushed bone and opened up long gashes down his back.

Alexander had little idea where Thor and the truck were. He had lost all sense of direction. His head spun dizzily, and one eye was swollen shut. Every bit of concentration was going into staying afloat and avoiding the troll’s projectiles.

The rock troll did not seem inclined to get into the water yet, but that could simply be because it was faster on land. Alexander did not dare to crawl out on the other side of the river. Either the troll would stone him to death from afar, or it would hop over the river and stomp him into the ground. Neither sounded enticing.

Before he was aware of it, he was nearly under a bridge crossing the river.

“Hold on, son,” Thor called, and then explosions ripped through the night.

Alexander passed under the bridge. Rocks and dirt hailed down, and the stink of fire and explosives filled the air. Then there was silence.

He kicked, pushing himself over the bank. He scrabbled up so that his upper body was out of the water. He drew several breaths and forced himself to his hands and knees. A moment later, Thor joined him and helped him to his feet. Alexander swayed, and Thor put his arm around his waist.

“The rock troll?” Alexander rasped.

“No troll. Just rock, for now. And I don’t think we ought to stick around to see if it pulls itself back together.”

“Agreed.”

Thor helped Alexander back to the truck, then helped to peel off his dripping jeans.

“Just cut the damned shirt off,” Alexander said, unwilling to wrestle himself free of the wet fabric. He felt as if he might faint. Or vomit. Or maybe both.

“Now, this is friendship. I much prefer getting women naked,” Thor said, then scowled as Alexander’s body was revealed. He was a patchwork of bruises. His ribs lumped oddly, his right shoulder was caved in, his left ankle was a mushy black mess, and the side of his skull ached from when he had hit the water.

“That looks like it hurts,” he said, then dug in Alexander’s pack for a dry pair of jeans and a shirt. With Thor’s help, Alexander was able to put on the jeans, but he did not try the shirt. He would wait until he healed some first.

Thor went to the back of the truck and returned with a jug of Ugly Juice. “Drink it. All of it, right now. Don’t go making faces. You aren’t two years old. Suck it up, and take your medicine. Be quick. I don’t want to have another run-in with that thing.”