Frostbitten: The Complete Series (47 page)

CHAPTER EIGHTY-FIVE
THE ANCIENT

As Hanna stumbled through the snowy woods, she began to realize that she was not drawing any closer to her house. As a matter of fact, her house was completely out of sight, as was the entire town of Snowbrooke, and it’s orange glow.

Out of breath, Hanna stopped and looked around. Snow continued to shroud the deeper forest, the sky and everything below her knees. She’d somehow become completely lost in those frozen woods on the outskirts of the little mountain town of Snowbrooke.

“Don’t be afraid,” the hoarse whispering voice of the wind spoke again.

“Who are you?” Hanna demanded to know. “Let me go home!”

“You still have so much to learn.”

“So much of what?” Hanna replied.

“So much of who you are. You need to embrace who you are, Hanna—unlock your full potential.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re a vampire. Stop hiding from it—embrace it. The old man and his wife next door—why spare them? It isn’t cruel or inhumane to put them out of their misery. They’re nothing but leeches, sucking the life out of society. They’re a waste of time—a waste of skin. People work day in and day out to keep them alive, to keep them happy. They eat the food that others farm, they sleep in the comfort of a house someone else built, they drive the car someone else made on the roads that someone else paved—and they give nothing back. You care about the world? Do the world a favour and put them down. It’s who you are.

“Besides, would you rather they die slowly and painfully of some cancer? Or a stroke? Take them both at one, and let them die together.”

“It’s not who I am!” Hanna cried as she began to stumble through the snow, trying to escape the omnipresent voice.

“Oh, but it is!” the wind replied with a peculiar certainty.

“Why?” Hanna demanded to know, tears swelling in her cold eyes.

“The world is over populated—overpopulated with useless swine. It’s why you exist. It’s why we exist. We’re vampires Hanna.”

“I don’t want to be a vampire!”

“But why? Why wouldn’t you want to be a vampire? Why wouldn’t you want to have all of the power in the world at your fingertips. Every drop of blood makes you stronger—and you can do what you’d like with that strength! You wouldn’t believe the power you could have.”

Suddenly, the snow of a distant snow bank began to shift into the image of a face. The face smiled at her and then began to speak. “You can do anything, Hanna,” it said.

“I don’t want to do anything!”

“Let the world become overpopulated with swine and it will turn to mud. Embrace who you are! Every useless slime who mocks you on the street—relieve them from the world. It’s why you have these cravings! It’s the world guiding you towards your duty; your destiny!”

“Go away! Hanna demanded. She turned away from the ominous face and began to stumble through the deep snow.

Suddenly, her house became visible through the eternal whiteness. She ran towards it with the last of her draining energy.

“Embrace it, Hanna. You’ll finally be happy once you embrace it. And once you do, you can come join me—and learn the ways of the Ancients.”

Hanna wiped the freezing tears from her eyes. “I don’t want this anymore!” she cried as she approached her door.

She entered her silent house and slammed the door behind her. She ran straight up to her bedroom and collapsed onto the floor. She began to cry.

That same ominous smile began to materialize in a dusty mirror on the bedroom wall.

“Don’t worry, Hanna,” the face said, in its hoarse, bitter voice. “Daddy will always be here with you.”

CHAPTER EIGHTY-SIX
FALLEN BROTHER

“This way, Mr. Daniels,” the coroner said to Eric as he led him down a hallway in the basement of the hospital.

A tall, shrimpy sort of man, the coroner wore a thick pair of glasses and walked with a nasty hunch—likely from leaning over dead bodies all day long. He stank of formaldehyde, vinegar and rubbing alcohol, and he had a sort of permanent grin plastered onto his awkward face.

Every man should be proud of his work—every man except for the coroner that is. But this coroner was particularly proud of his work. For whatever reason, no one will ever know.

Eric wanted desperately to believe that he would walk into that room, and the body on the table would turn out to be some stranger—some kid who looked like Andrew, but was actually just some drifter. He wanted to believe Andrew would jump out from around a corner, yelling, “Got you!” He wanted to believe it badly, but he knew it wasn’t true. He knew the moment Andrew didn’t show up at his house the night before that something was wrong.

He just knew.

The coroner opened a large metal door and walked into a large room, filled with metal cupboards—each containing its own body waiting quietly in escrow.

The coroner walked up to a table, on which a corpse lay covered with a thin sheet.

Eric had spent the past few hours mentally preparing himself for this moment. He thought he would be able to handle it.

The coroner pulled back the sheet.

Eric’s heart shattered. Every molecule of hidden joy in his body seeped out of him and dissipated into the cold, cruel air. Andrew was dead—lying on a cold metal table directly in front of him.

“For God sakes! Put a blanket under him, and get him a pillow!” Eric shouted loudly, suddenly overcome by a rage.

The coroner stood still for a moment, taken aback by the sudden outburst.

“What are you waiting for, man?” Eric shouted.

The coroner scurried away like a frightened shrimp to fetch a blanket and a pillow from the hospital storage room.

Andrew looked down at his fallen brother. “Who did this to you?” Eric asked, his eyes blurring with tears.

Eric was looking down at a corpse—not Andrew. The Andrew he knew was full of life—always dreaming. The Andrew he knew didn’t close his eyes—afraid he would miss something exciting. He was always on the hunt—always alive.

The man in front of him was not.

Eric’s muscles became tense, thinking about the cruel, lifeless human who could have committed such a crime. The last person on earth to deserve this was Andrew Walker.

“I’ll kill whoever did this to you,” Eric promised. “They aren’t getting away with this.”

Andrew’s body continued to lay lifelessly on the cold table. His skin was impossibly pale. All of his dreams of grandeur were nowhere to be heard.

“It’s not fair...” Eric said, holding back his tears.

The shrimp of a coroner scurried back with a blanket and a pillow. He stood still next to Eric for a moment.

“Well? Help me lift him up!” Eric demanded, reaching his hand carefully underneath Andrew’s head.

Eric and the coroner lifted Andrew up gently and slid a warm blanket between the lifeless body and the cold metal table. Softly, Eric placed the pillow under Andrew’s head.

“He didn’t deserve this, man,” Eric said to the coroner.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” the shrimp of a man replied.

Eric sighed. He placed his hand gently on his brother’s forehead. “He might have only been twenty years old, but he lived twenty lives. Love you, brother.”

Eric turned around to leave—he’d taken all he could take.

“Wait,” the coroner said, stopping Eric.

Eric stopped and turned back. “What?”

“His wallet, his keys and all of the other belongings he had with him—I don’t know who to give them to.”

“I’ll take them,” Eric said.

The coroner turned to grab a little plastic container with all of Andrew’s things. “We can’t get a hold of his family. Do you know if they’ve moved or changed their phone number recently?”

“I couldn’t tell you.” Eric took the box from the coroner, and then turned to leave again.

He walked out of the room and began to head down the hallway.

When he got home, he opened up the little plastic box and looked inside. Something inside caught his attention.

Hanging from a string was the glowing red Sunstone. Eric twirled it around, looking through it. It was incredibly clear, and it glowed seemingly from nothing.

After a moment, Eric took the pendant and placed it in his pocket.

CHAPTER EIGHTY-SEVEN
SECRETS NO LONGER

Exhausted, Connor collapsed into the chair in his mother’s new hospital room. The room was on the top floor of the hospital, with its own door, and its own set of walls—no curtains.

Charlotte was hooked up to an IV, as well as a blood pressure and heart monitor. She looked peaceful as she slept, which was a great relief for Connor.

Within moments of sitting down, the tired Connor began to doze off. His eyes were heavy and his muscles were all sore. Finally, after a long, hectic day, he could rest.

“Connor?” his mother’s voice said softly, pulling him from his near-slumber.

Connor looked up at his mother. She was looking over at him with a smile on her face.

“Hey. What are you doing awake?” Connor asked.

“Why don’t you sleep at the house, where it’s comfortable?” Charlotte asked.

“This is fine mom. I’m comfortable here.”

“Are you sure?” Charlotte asked.

“I’m sure. Go back to sleep. You need the rest.”

“Okay...”

Charlotte let her head roll back and she began again to doze off. Then, she suddenly turned her head back to Connor. The smile dissipated from her face.

“Connor?” she said again.

Connor looked back over at his mother. “Yeah, mom?”

“That girl—be careful with that girl.”

“What girl?”

“The girl who drove me that night. She’s not right, that girl.”

“What do you mean? Why not?”

Charlotte froze for a moment, thinking of the best way to formulate her next sentence.

“What is it, mom?”

“She’s—She’s not human.”

Connor stared at his mother, unsure of how to respond. If it wasn’t for that night, where he saw Constable Hendricks get launched into the wall by some supernatural entity, he wouldn’t have believed the claim. But unfortunately, given all he’d been through in the past twenty-four hours, he believed it.

“I know it sounds crazy—but for me, please be careful,” Charlotte begged.

“I’ll be careful,” Connor said.

“Just stay away from her. Please.”

“I will mom... I will,” Connor said.

He loved Hanna, but his mother was right. Hanna wasn’t human. He didn’t know anything about her. As far as he knew, she was the town murderer. As far as he knew, she was the “demon child” that the vandals accused her of being.

Connor watched as his mother dozed back off to sleep. His poor mother had sacrificed too much of her life for Connor for him to go risking it all on some girl he only knew for a week.

He was going to have to cut her loose, and keep his distance.

As Connor dozed off, he felt something lingering deep in his bones—that same sensation of dread that he’d felt just hours earlier, except this time it was less specific. This feeling had nothing to do with Hanna, or anyone. This was something different.

Something strange.

And Connor wasn’t the only person to feel it on that cold winter night.

As Tarun lay in bed, dreaming about the beautiful Megan Gold, he was awaken swiftly. A loud gust of wind whistled against his bedroom window.

He felt it too.

It was a cold and cruel feeling. It filled his body with a peculiar anxiety that he’d never felt before.

In that same building, Brittany felt it too. She sprung awake on Kane’s bed.

“What is it?” Kane asked, waking up.

“I—I’m not sure. I think I just had a nightmare,” she said.

“What about?”

“I—I don’t know. I can’t remember.”

“It’s alright. It was just a nightmare,” Kane assured. “Go back to sleep.

Normally, Kane would have just gone back to sleep, but he felt it too. As that Arctic wind whistled against his apartment window, that gripping dread clutched his gut.

Something was coming.

Everyone could feel it.

Every single person in Snowbrooke.

It was something
big
.