The Frozen Witch Book One (7 page)

It was darkened, the only light visible
through a crack in the curtains on the far wall.

“Who’s there? Where am I?” I demanded. But
the empty room didn’t answer.

Shaking, shivering all over, the cold in my
chest so hard and dense it felt like I’d swallowed a glacier, I
pushed out of bed. A thick comforter fell off my trembling form as
I jumped to my feet. I was unsteady and instantly had to shove a
hand out. I locked it on the wall, taking a few seconds to steady
myself. Then I shifted back. My eyes were bleary, so I headed
towards the only illumination – the crack in the curtains. Still
trembling, I reached it, grabbed hold of the fabric, and yanked it
open.

And that would be when I gasped. I was on
top of the city. Well, virtually on top of it. I was in one of the
massive, tall towers in the downtown district. The view was
unrivaled, the kind of picturesque panorama you get in one of the
top hotels.

“Where… where the hell am I?” I demanded
as I turned hard on my foot, feet dragging through the plush
carpet.

Now I’d thrown some light onto the room, I
saw how nice it was.

My room back in my tiny, miniaturized
apartment was about 2 m x 2 m. Enough for a short bed and that’s
about it. I kept my clothes in plastic boxes under the bed.

This room? God, I couldn’t tell you how
large it was. Big enough that it took me more than a few steps to
reach the door on the opposite side.

Everything was modern, from the bed to the
furniture to the door.

In fact, the door was so modern, it
appeared to require a key code to open. As my fingers latched
around the handle and I rattled it, a beep filled the air. “You do
not have the right to leave this room,” an electronic voice
informed me in a dull tone.

“What?” I spluttered as I took a sharp,
fast breath.

I’d only hyperventilated a couple of times
in the past year. Now it looked as if it would be the third time in
a day. My breath began to ram hard into my chest as I tried to suck
in as much oxygen as I could.

Just as I felt my body lock with dizziness,
the door beeped. I had time to shove backwards before it
opened.

I expected to see Franklin Saunders.

I didn’t.

Instead, I saw a woman. One I recognized
from the party.

“You’re… you’re Franklin’s secretary,” I
managed. “Where is he? And why am I here? What—”

The woman brought up a hand. She may have
been dressed in an exceedingly expensive blue satin dress last
night, but now she was in jeans, boots, and a sturdy-looking
leather jacket. “Firstly, I am not Franklin’s secretary. That’s
insulting. Secondly, you’re here because you’re working off your
sins.” Her voice dropped, tone becoming unmistakably
judgmental.

Still struggling for breath, I managed to
lock a hand on my chest. “Work off my sins? What the hell are you
talking about?”

“Do you need a paper bag or something?
Calm down. Franklin would have explained the process to you last
night. You can’t win any sympathy from me by acting all doe-eyed
and terrified.”

“Terrified?” I stuttered, hoping it would
reveal just how terrified I was.

I began to back away, leg catching a chair.
Before I could tumble over and knock my head against a coffee
table, I caught my balance just in time.

With one eyebrow raised, the woman took
another step into the room. “It’s time to get you registered. Then,
if I were you, I would work double time. I recommend you make a
good impression on Vali while you still can. He may have found it
in his heart to contract you instead of killing you, but trust me,
his heart can change.”

Tears began to streak down my cheeks once
more. I stumbled backwards until I reached the bed. Flopping onto
it, I brought up a hand and slammed it over my chest. I slammed the
other hand over my mouth. And that’s when I noticed that I was
wearing two large, silver cuffs.

In an instant, I remembered the blue symbols
from last night.

I brought my hands up as quickly as I could,
staring at them in terror. But there was nothing there.

The woman narrowed her eyes, crossing her
arms in front of her bust so tightly it was almost as if she wanted
to squeeze herself in half. That was nothing to mention her frown.
It cut so hard across her cheeks, it was as if a butcher had sliced
her across the face. “You need to start taking responsibility for
your sins,” she growled once more.

“What sins?” I bellowed at the top of my
lungs, not out of anger but out of terrified desperation. It was
slowly dawning on me that this wasn’t a dream.

There was only one thing I could be thankful
for: those squirming, dancing, burning blue symbols were no longer
writhing under my skin. As I warily brought my hands up and drew
down the cuffs of my shirt, I stared at the silver bangles.

I frowned. I looked up just in time to see
that the woman was frowning, too.

“They’re magical locks. They’ll only come
off once you know how to use your powers.”

“Powers?” My voice shook.

“Yes, powers,” she said in a strong,
punchy tone like a teacher demanding a pupil pay attention.
“Magic,” she said as she brought a hand up and casually flicked her
fingers to the side. Instantly, a disc of brightly blue colored
light spread out from her fingers.

I gasped and jerked back. “That’s
impossible.” I struggled through a breath. I was way beyond
hyperventilating. It felt like I would never take a breath again.
As I cowered against my bed, it felt like it would be the last
moment of my sorry existence.

The woman rolled her eyes. She also flicked
her fingers to the side. That circle of light shifted under her
fingertips, kind of like a cog spinning within a clock. She pressed
her finger against a glowing symbol. As she did, something lit up
over her skin: green flames.

I’d never seen anything like it. Not on
television, not at the movies, not in the news. It was completely
and utterly impossible. My shoulders shook so badly as I remained
pressed against my bed that the frame jittered against the wall
like someone trying to knock through the plaster.

She let the flames leap across her skin for
several seconds. Then she clicked her fingers. That circle of light
in front of her hand shifted, the cog spinning to the left. She
selected another symbol, and abruptly, spinning particles of dust
erupted from her hands. They traced around her fingers with such
speed, it looked as if she’d shoved her fist into the center of a
hurricane.

“This- this is impossible,” I
stuttered.

“No, it’s not impossible; it’s magic. Now
get used to it. Like I said, this innocent act won’t work on me.
And trust me when I say it won’t work on Vali, either.”

“Vali?” I managed to stutter.

“Franklin Saunders.” Her voice took on the
strangest tone for half a second until that steely, angry
determination returned to her expression. “He’s your new
master.”

“Master?” My voice shot up
high.

“Last night you signed a contract with the
god of revenge, agreeing to work away your sins. It was that, or
die.”

“Wait, what? What are you talking about?
What sins? What contract?” As I said that, I stopped. A sharp,
clear memory slammed into the center of my head. I remembered
Franklin Saunders leaning in front of me. I remembered the creak of
his knees. I remembered the smell of his cologne. And, more than
anything, I remembered that deep, dark look in his eyes. The one
that drew you into infinity. He’d pressed some kind of strange
scroll against my bleeding thumb, then I’d passed out.

I brought up a shaking hand and clamped it
against my mouth. “What do you mean he’s my master?”

She clicked her fingers, and the swelling
dust around her hand disappeared with a flicker and a crackle of
energy. The spinning circle blinked out, leaving her normal. Well,
a measure of normal. She put her hands on her hips and took a
strong step forward. “You came to the attention of the god Vali,
the Norse god of revenge. He exists to mete out punishment when we
humans,” she patted a hand on her chest, her jacket scrunching,
“anger the gods. Vali, under certain circumstances, sometimes gives
sinners a second chance.”

“A second chance?” I asked in a hollow
tone.

She nodded low, a few wisps of her loose
blonde hair trailing across her shoulders and the long cut of her
neck. “A second chance. But we have to earn it. Otherwise, he’ll
take it back.” She spoke with such finality, I couldn’t help but
shake. I was now completely covered in sweat. It didn’t just slick
my brow; it drenched it as if I’d just hopped under the shower. At
least I wasn’t hyperventilating. But I could feel it – the nerves
were sinking deeper into my gut, chasing up into my legs, making
them feel as if they were as heavy as stones.

I flattened a hand on my chest and tried to
calm myself. Ah, who was I kidding? How the heck could you calm
down from a situation like this? Apparently, I’d signed a contract
last night, and I was now indebted to the Norse god of revenge.

With her hands still on her hips, the
woman continued, “You are now indentured to Vali, and you must work
off your sins by working for him.”

“Working for him?”

“You must use your magic to track down
other criminals and bring them to justice.”

My head started to spin. It was so bad, it
felt as if somebody had attached my brains to helicopter rotors and
turned the engine to full. I pressed a sweaty hand through my hair,
my fingers getting tangled and caught up in my knots.

“You must use your magic to track down
other magical criminals.”

“Other magical criminals?” I asked in a
far-off, distant tone, almost as if I were beginning to
disassociate from the situation.

She nodded firmly. “I realize this is a
quick introduction. Obviously you didn’t know anything about magic
before yesterday. That happens sometimes.”

“It does?” I asked weakly.

She nodded, expression still firm. She may
have been finally explaining things, but I could tell she was doing
so begrudgingly. “Magic has existed since the day dot. But it’s a
heavily regulated power.”

“Regulated by whom?”

“The gods.” She crossed her arms
again.

“The gods?” I was sure my head couldn’t
spin any faster. Yet with a lurch, it achieved Mac 10. I wasn’t
religious. Okay, I’d been to church a few times with my
grandmother, but that was it. I didn’t believe in divine beings; I
believed in life, in money, in survival. Now this blonde bombshell
was telling me that I’d angered the gods with my sins.

I felt so woozy. I was about to throw up. I
clapped a hand over my mouth, my fingers shaking.

She shot me a withering look. “Just hold
it together. If you are this weak, you will never work off your
sins. And if you don’t…” she trailed off.

I looked up sharply. That implied threat
was the only thing that could make me drop my hand. “If I
don’t?”

“You’ll die,” she said
matter-of-factly.

I die? Oh god no. God!

I crumpled even further into my hands.

“Though Franklin usually gives new
recruits time to settle in and learn the ropes, he wants to test
you off the bat.”

“I’m sorry?” I blinked, my eyelids feeling
as heavy as two mountain caps.

She shoved a hand into her pocket and pulled
out a scroll of all things. It reminded me of how Franklin had done
the same. Whilst her jeans and blouse were tight, her jacket
wasn’t, but there was still no way a long scroll could have fitted
inside the fabric.

She pulled the scroll out and rolled it
open, an officious look on her pretty face. “He wants you to go
after John Lambert, a fire practitioner who has been doubling as a
hitman.”

“I’m- I’m sorry? What? A fire
practitioner? A hitman?!” My voice went up so high, I could have
cracked the window.

She nodded firmly. “Like I said, Franklin
wants to test you off the bat. Obviously he’s not convinced taking
you in was the right thing to do.” Her voice dropped down low, and
she shot me such a judgmental look it was obvious I was nothing
more than pond scum in her eyes.

I’d clamped my hand back over my face, and
there wasn’t anything this side of a tow truck that would be able
to remove it.

“You’ll have one chance to impress him. If
you don’t…” she trailed off again.

I didn’t need her to finish her sentence – I
could finish it myself: if I didn’t impress Franklin, I’d die.

It slowly, slowly started to sink in. With
a pang, I realized just how dire this situation was.

My hand fell from my face. My shoulders
loosened, and I sat there, loose and limp on the edge of the
bed.

For the first time, I fancied that just a
flicker of compassion crossed through the woman’s gaze. “Did you
think working off your sins would be easy?”

I didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Working off my
sins? I still couldn’t accept that the handful of thefts I’d done
in my teens justified this. As for not seeing my grandmother before
she died? It was tragic, but it was hardly the kind of crime to
justify being indentured to the Nordic god of revenge.

I closed my eyes and clapped my hands over
them. I was wrong. This had to be a dream – some kind of cruel
hallucination. I shook my head and waited for it to end.