Whiteout (Aurora Sky (41 page)

“Faster,” he bellowed.

“Don't be a backseat driver,” I yelled back. “This is the first t
ime I've driven one of these things.”

“It's easy, just keep the throttle on high.”

I fluttered it instead, testing the machine, trying to get a feel for the weight and speed. I didn't have much time to master snowmachining. What I wanted to do
was
take a s
udden, sharp turn and send Jared flying off in the opposite direction. At the moment, I was still working on driving the thing and staying on
top
.

Jared leaned forward, crushing my body against the handlebars as he grabbed the throttle and turned. We
lurch
ed
forward.

“Like that,” he said in my ear.

My
chest
hurt from hitting the handlebars. Anger ignited and flared through me.
I recalled the time he'd gunned his car down the hillside after the killing spree at the tasting. The bastard forced me to beg him
to slow down.

Memories of my car accident came rushing back and flooded me with rage. I saw Jared sneering behind the wheel, ramming into me, crushing my car, my kidney, my lungs—my beating heart! He'd made me what I was. A killer. A freak of nature runnin
g for her life.

And now he wanted me to work with him?

The hell I would!

I ground my teeth together as I passed the machine Fane had overturned. That meant we were at least fifteen minutes out of range of the highway. Good. Plenty of time to make my move.

Fresh snow had covered all of the previous ski tracks, but now that I could see, it wasn't difficult to follow the path where the road had been covered. It snaked through the woods and across open expanses.

Seeing a bend up ahead, I eased the throttle.

Jar
ed leaned with my body when I entered the turn. I slowed the machine down until we were moving at a crawl. As we came out of the bend, the road opened up into a long, straight stretch.

It was now or never.

I gripped the handlebars and cranked the throttle
as far back as it would go. As it shot forward, I stood, holding on tight. With my body suddenly upright, Jared lost
his clasp on
my waist
and had nothing to hold
on to
when the machine flew forward.

Eyes forward, I didn't see him fall backward, blasted o
ff the machine when it propelled down the straightaway. I was still holding on like a bull rider at a rodeo. I did notice extra weight had been shed from behind me. As the speed evened out, I sat down and glanced back in time to see Jared scramble to his f
eet.

I faced forward again, bringing the machine to a more manageable speed.

My brief moment of elevation was
rapidly
replaced by apprehension. What now? I needed to get back to Fane and Dante, but now Jared was blocking the way. While I m
ulled it over, a
shot rang out.

Well, that answered that.
With Jared firing at me
I had no choice but to head for the highway.

I twisted the throttle as another bullet whizzed dangerously close before being sucked away into the wind. Another shot rang out. I heard a metal
lic ping as it hit the snowmachine. I didn't have a good handle on steering. Instead, I twisted the throttle full speed, ignoring the sting against my eyes and cheeks as I blasted across the snow and out of shooting range. Tears leaked from the corner of m
y eyes. My face seared from
windburn
.

The engine cut out roughly
,
and the machine stopped like a dead weight. The abrupt termination sent me
flying over the handlebars
and
into the
snow ahead. The powder cushioned the blow, but it didn't prevent the wind f
rom being knocked from me.

My heart hammered out of control as I lay on my back staring up at the gray sky. Once I'd regained my breath, I shot up and stared at the machine in confusion. Why the hell had it stopped working?

It wasn't long before I noticed
a hole in the gas tank and a trail of liquid behind the machine.

Really? Really!

Leave it to Jared to manage a direct hit to the gas tank. I should
have
consider
ed
myself fortunate that it had been the tank and not my leg that he'd hit. I doubted he was aiming specifically for the machine's gas tank. The rat bastard j
ust had a way of getting lucky, unlike me.
Stranded weaponless.

I looked into the distance
,
expectin
g to see Jared on his way down, but there was no trace of him. He must have disappeared back around the bend we'd taken before I dumped his sorry ass into the snow.

What was he doing? Where was he going? Back to the lodge? Terror gripped me by the throat.
How badly was Fane wounded? I couldn't imagine Jared would be
dumb
enough to face Fane. Even wounded, Fane had a loaded gun and the shelter of the lodge. If Jared tried to
enter the premises, Fane would see him before he ever reached the front door.

Anothe
r thought occurred to me.

The overturned snowmachine.

Fane had left the key inside. All it needed was righting and then it would be operational again.

Again, why? Why was fate that cruel?

Even though Jared had to backtrack, he'd be on me before I even came
close to reaching the highway. I could run for the woods, but he'd be able to follow my tracks now that it was no longer snowing.

I
lifted my face to
the sky. “Now would be a good time to bring that blizzard back.”

The clouds formed a ce
iling overhead,
but nothing more
. I watched for a sign. A single snowflake. Anything.

A gust of wind whipped by as though to say,
“Tough shit.”

“Story of my life,” I muttered, heading toward the trees. I had to do something other than stand out in the open.

I glanced ove
r my shoulder, heart dropping at the tracks following my movements across the snow. Strike one.

The spruce trees were a fair distance off. I'd entered the wide open part of the route when the snowmachine died. Strike two.

The rumble of an engine stopped me
in my tracks. That was quick. It was headed toward me fast. My body trembled as though connected to the approaching machine's vibrations.

No. Life was cruel, but not that cruel.

I had no weapons. No way to outrun it. Nowhere to hide.

My feet stopped, and
I stood motionless. What good was another foot? I turned and faced the approaching sound. I half expected to see the machine flying at me
, b
ut it hadn't emerged from around the bend quite yet.

I looked around. What did I have? Snow. Lots of it. Crazed laug
hter burbled up my throat. Sure, make a bunch of snowballs and pelt the bastard with them as he drove up.

You have nothing. Game over.

“No,” I said. “I have myself. My body is a weapon.”

I curled my hands into tight balls. I had my fists. I lifted my arms.
I had the sharp, blunt ends of my elbows. I widened my stance. I had legs that would kick, knees that could ram Jared in the nuts.

I smiled to myself. I didn't need a gun or a knife. Let Jared come. He wouldn't shoot me. He wanted me to do his bidding or,
at the very least, suffer. He'd try to grab me again. To do so he'd have to get near me, and when he did, I'd attack. I'd turn my brain off. I'd tear into him the way a wolf ripped into prey. I was the wolf, not the rabbit. I wanted Jared to approach, to
come close.

A black speck appeared in the distance.

“Yes, come,” I said under my breath. “Come and let us end this.”

 

 

 24

Above And Beyond

 

I stayed in place, breathing steady, alert and ready.

The machine roared closer, flying across the snow.
My fists tightened. My breaths came in white, even puffs. I braced myself.

As the distance closed, the machine suddenly slowed. At roughly fifty feet, it slowed even more.

I'd half expected Jared to mow me down or at least come at me full speed and give m
e another scare.

I could see him now. Well, not exactly. He had a black ski mask covering his entire face. That wasn't Jared's style. My stomach turned.
That
wasn't Jared. I was almost sure of it. And if it wasn't, then who was it?

At about twenty feet
the machine slowed further still. It came to a complete stop ten feet away from me. The engine turned off and the whole world went silent.

The driver swung his leg around and stepped off.

Instinctively, I crouched—ready to pounce.

Once he dismounted, the d
river
removed his goggles and set them on the seat of the snowmachine. Then he
reached under his chin and pulled off his ski mask.

I gasped as the mask came off.

Fane.

“Fane?” I could see him plain as day, but I couldn't quite believe it was actually him a
nd not some cruel trick of the eye. Finally, my luck had changed. The clouds could keep their snow. Fane was here
.

I wanted to run to him. I wanted to throw my arms around his neck and weep into his shoulder, but my legs had frozen in place.

Instead, Fane
came to me. He walked up briskly, jaw tight. His arms shot forward, grabbing me by the shoulders and pull
ing
me into his embrace.

“I thought I'd lost you,” he said.

I swallowed and leaned back to look into his eyes. “What about you?” I asked. “Jared shot y
ou!”

Fane lifted his arm, pointing out a hole in his jacket. “Grazed my arm. First time I've ever been shot. L
uckily the bullet kept going
.”

Tears of relief filled my eyes. “Thank goodness,” I breathed.

“Nothi
ng can keep us apart
. Not ever again.” Fane hug
ged me to him again.
The
embrace was brief. “Where's Jared?” he asked
.

I squinted at him. “I was about to ask you the same thing. You didn't see him on your way down?”

“No. What happened?”

“I gunned it after the bend,” I said, pointing the way Fane had com
e. “He fell off and started shooting at me.”

Fane hands tensed over me.

“He hit the gas tank,” I continued, nodding at the dead machine. “Last I saw, he was headed back toward the lodge. I thought he'd go for our turned
-
over machine.”

Fane frowned. “I didn
't see it on my way down.”

“You didn't?” My eyes widened. “Then where did he go?”

Fane stepped back and folded his arms across his chest, staring at the spruce trees near the bend. “He probably made a run for it when he heard my machine coming down.”

Would
n't
have been
the first time Jared retreated into the woods. The vamp was like a cockroach that kept getting away and coming back.

“Damn it,” I said, yanking on my coat sleeves. “What about Dante?”

“He's still at the lodge.”

“We need to get him out of here
.”

Fane ran his thumb over my
windburned
cheek gently. “We all need to get out of here.”
Fane removed his hand and grabbed the ski mask. “Put this on.”

“You're driving, you should wear it.”

Fane held it out. “I insist.”

Not wanting to waste any more time, I took the mask from his hand. “Where did you get this anyway? You
gave
me a start.”

“Sorry about that. I found it in the coat pocket of one of the dead vamps when I was searching for a key to a snowmobile. I knew I'd be
riding at full speed and figured I might as well protect my face.”

I nodded before pulling the ski mask over my head. The cotton felt good against the bitter wind. Fane put on his goggles and mounted the machine. I swung my leg over the seat behind him an
d wrapped my arms around his waist, squeezing tight even before he started the engine.

The machine roared to life
, vibrating between my legs. We
shot forward. I pictured us as two vampires straddling a bullet aimed at the lodge. We flew across the snow, wind rushing past us, Fane shielding me from the brunt of it.

My body tensed as we passed the wooded area where I'd last seen the overturned mach
ine. It, along with Jared, was now gone. I listened for gunshots. If Jared was hiding in the brush waiting to take aim, there wasn't much we could do riding by. Hopefully he hadn't stuck around to attempt an ambush. He thought Dante was dead. Obviously he
heard Fane coming down and had fled. He'd have no reason to think we'd turn around and head back to the lodge.

We cleared the area without incident and were soon pulling up to the front of the lodge. The machine slowed and came to a stop. Fane cut the engi
ne and I jumped off. Zack and his friend still laid in the snow where I'd shot them down. I turned my back to them as I ran to the front entrance. They weren't going anywhere. They couldn't hurt anyone ever again. That was one of the ironies of being undea
d. Live forever or die any day.

All it took was one bullet.

My chest tightened. I flew through the door and ran down the hall, not pausing for breath until I'd reached Dante. I expected to find him lying on his back unconscious. It was relief when I found
him sitting up. He'd scooted over to the wall and was using it to lean against. The blood sack was on the floor, near his leg. His fingers rested on it. The bag looked empty.

My eyes widened. “Did you drink it all?”

Dante grunted. “Damned if I'm going to l
et Spaghetti Boy carry me out of here. I'd rather choke down a bi
t of blood and walk out
on my own two feet.”

I got on my knees beside Dante and opened the first
-aid
kit. “Lift up your shirt,” I said as I ripped open an antiseptic wipe.

“It won't get infec
ted,” Dante said.

“Yeah, well, it doesn't hurt to clean up some of this blood.”

“Sure you don't want to lick the wound clean?” Dante asked. He groaned when he lifted up his shirt.

As though I'd ever lick blood off Dante again, especially not from a violent
wound.

I rolled my eyes. “I think I'll stick to blood bags from now on.” Blood leaked out of a hole in his flesh, staining his skin. Good thing the sight of blood didn't bother me. I swiped the area, but it only made the wound ooze out more. I tossed the
wipe aside and grabbed the biggest piece of square gauze from the kit. Once I laid it over Dante's wound, I used the kit's adhesive tape to secure it in place.

The bandage was barely in place before Dante grunted and pushed himself off the floor. Once stan
ding, he grinned, but it was strained.
He held his arm tight across his stomach.

“It sounded like that last vampire gave you some trouble.”

“The last vampire was Jared.”

Dante's eyes
bulged.

“Jared? Is he dead?”

Before I could answer, Fane appeared in the
doorway, arms crossed over his chest. “He got away.”

Dante's jaw tightened. “Again?”

I couldn't tell if his scowl was in response to learning Jared escaped yet again or to Fane's appearance. Probably both.

“It's time we got going ourselves,” Fane said.

“W
e need to go after Jared,” Dante said, taking a step forward, clutching his arm against his stomach.

I released an exasperated sigh. “Number one, he's long gone. Number two, you're severely wounded.”

“I feel fine,” Dante insisted.

My gaze jumped from Dante
's eyes to his lips. “That's the blood talking.”

Fane glanced at Dante's abdomen. “It won't do much good if he bleeds out.”

“I bandaged it as best I could.”

“The sooner he gets the bullet removed and stitche
d up, the better,
”
Fane said.
He turned and led the way down the hall.

Dante fell into step beside me. “What did you mean when you said he managed to infiltrate the agency? How? And how did he find us out here?”

I placed my hand on Dante's arm. “I'll explain everything on the drive ho
me,” I said.

“Flight home,” Fane said, looking over his shoulder at me while leading the walk down the hall. “It will be faster if we fly. There's a small airport north of here. I'll call Alfonso and ask him to make arrangements.” Fane pulled his phone out
of his pocket and stopped several feet from the lodge's front door.

I chewed on my lower lip. “Should we be flying in this weather?”

“Visibility is back and the wind seems to be calming down,” Fane said as he ran a finger over his phone's touch screen. He
looked up and met my
eye, grinning slowly. “And we
have a highly motivated pilot—me.”

My jaw dropped. “You know how to fly planes?” I shook my head, smiling. “I suppose I shouldn't be surprised.”