Frostbound (29 page)

Lucky for her. It was ironic that she’d spent so long hunting monsters, only to end up relying on them for protection.

“Don’t look so worried.” He traced his fingertips down her shoulder, leaving her skin tingling with anticipation.

Talia didn’t reply. She was too mesmerized by the obvious strength in his chest and arms. She’d felt that strength last night, the memory of it sending fresh explosions of need through her core.

Lore took hold of the edge of the blanket and gave it a firm tug, pulling it loose from her fingers. “We don’t have to leave right away.”

“Good.”

 

By the time they finally made it out of the Empire, Talia had lost count of the favors she owed Joe, including the use of his washer and dryer to get the tunnel mud out of her jeans. Lore led her down the mostly shoveled sidewalks. Icicles clung to the rooflines, showing the temperature had risen during the day, but it was bitterly cold now.

Thankfully, their walk was short. She hadn’t been down these streets before, but the air of hard work and not enough money reminded her a bit of her old neighborhood. A group of young people, neither teens nor fully adults, stood in a tight cluster by the entrance of a convenience store. At least a few were vampires. A werebear—he had to be by the size—was lifting his truck out of a snowbank. A movie theater was having a midnight showing of
Rocky Horror
. Talia wondered what the monsters made of that.

Lore turned south, and Talia knew at once they were in his pack’s territory. A pair of colossal black hounds sat at the entrance to the street. They stood as Lore passed, dipping their huge heads. Lore acknowledged them with a nod and slipped his arm around Talia.

The gesture was as much territorial as affectionate. Her independent streak objected, but Talia understood the necessity on werebeast lands. She was a guest, not an invader, as long as Lore gave her his protection. Without it, she was vulnerable.

He kept his arm circled around her until they reached his destination, a green door in a row of old, two-story houses. Before he could knock, the door was opened by a woman Talia guessed to be around seventy. She wore what looked like traditional dress, hand dyed and embroidered, along with sneakers and an acrylic cardigan. It was the kind of mix Talia had seen before in ethnic communities. In another generation, little trace of the traditional would remain.

The old woman said something in the hellhound language, giving Talia a sharp look. She tensed, feeling very much like she Did Not Belong.

“This is Talia,” Lore replied in English. “She is a friend who needs to stay for a night or two.”

“Come in. Our bread and meat are yours.” The woman spoke slowly, with a thick accent. The words sounded ritualized but also routine, much like someone would offer a cup of coffee.

“Thank you, ma’am,” Talia replied. The welcome relieved her. She didn’t want to get Lore into trouble with his pack.

“This is Osan Mina,” Lore said. “She is one of our Elders.”

He put his mouth close to her ear. “ ‘Osan’ is like grandmother, ‘Obar’ like grandfather. Anyone who is an Elder is called ‘Osan’ or ‘Obar.’ They are terms of respect.”

“Got it.”

“Thank you.” He sounded relieved in his turn. Apparently one did not slight the Elders and get away with it. Talia understood; her own grandmother had been the sweetest woman she’d ever met, until somebody ticked her off.

“I’m honored to meet you.” Talia gave a slight bow to Osan Mina, as she’d seen Lore do. It must have struck the right chord, because the woman stepped back, gesturing them inside. As they took off their coats and boots, Talia looked around with interest. Everything was done in colors so bright and varied the air seemed to vibrate.

“Is Helver at home?” Lore asked, following Mina into the kitchen. Talia trailed after him.

Mina replied, still in English. “He helps Obar Ranik get snow off roof.”

“I need to go see him. I’ve let him stew long enough.”

As Talia and Lore sat at the table, Mina filled an enamel kettle and set it on the stove. “You have tea first. You go out, everyone want to talk. You not come back to Mina and Talia.”

Lore gave one of his trademark grins. He might treasure his private apartment a few streets away, Talia thought, but on some level he must have enjoyed being at the middle of everything. He was the go-to guy.

There was a small stack of books at the end of the table. Talia saw a child’s reader on top. “Do you have grandchildren, Osan Mina?”

“I have grandson, Helver.”

“That’s his,” Lore said, nodding at the stack of books. “He’s a young man, though, not a child. Most of the hellhounds are just learning to read English.”

The teacher in her perked up. “Do you have classes?”

He shook his head. “Nothing formal. Volunteers come when they can.”

That made Talia’s head spin. Reading was as natural to her as breathing. “I saw the stack of books by your bed. How did you learn to read?”

“When I lived in the Castle, I had a young friend who was an incubus. His mother taught me. Constance was kind to me because I looked out for her son.”

Talia picked up the reader and opened the cover. The book looked well used, the pages scribbled over with crayon. “What about the hellhound children? Do they go to school?”

“We’re still looking for someplace that will take them. Half-demons aren’t welcome in very many places.”

Talia put the book down, trying to distance herself as a blast of anger roared through her gut. Humans complained that the other species didn’t integrate well into society—but how could they, when access was barred to something as basic as elementary education?

Mina put a tray with tea and cups on the table.

“Why not set up a private school?” Talia said. She wondered if anyone had published educational materials suitable to other species.
See Were-Spot Run
.
See Spot Eat Dick and Jane
. It had possibilities.

Lore put his hand over Talia’s. “Can we do that?”

She noticed Mina looking at their hands, and slid hers away. “Sure. It’s not simple to get through all the paperwork, but setting up a private school can be done. I can help.”

Lore still watched her intently. Just being the focus of his attention made Talia’s mouth go dry, and that loss of control made her cautious.

“Just like that?” He sounded incredulous.

She shrugged. “You could even make funding it an election issue.”

Lore’s eyes narrowed, as if he were imagining the possibilities.

Mina didn’t look happy. The old woman’s expression insisted that Lore belonged to the hellhounds, not to a vampire waif. Talia doubted her credentials would impress the likes of the old woman and Mavritte. Forming any kind of a permanent bond with their Alpha, even a business arrangement, would probably spell trouble.

The realization turned her insides to stone, but a large part of her didn’t care.
I have a master’s in education. This is about the kids
.

Lore’s cell rang. He flipped it open. “Hey, Bevan.”

Mina poured tea and silently slid a cup across to Talia. She took a tiny sip to be polite. It wasn’t blood, but she could get a small amount of hot liquid down without feeling sick. Lore stood and took his call into the next room. Without him, Talia had a sudden pang of awkwardness, and she cast about for a topic.

“How many school-aged children are there?” she asked Mina.

The older female shook her head. “There was big fight to leave Castle. Many have no parents. For every house where hounds live, there live two or three young.”

Talia wasn’t sure how many that was, but it was a lot. “Orphans?”

Mina looked confused. Maybe she didn’t know the word.

“They have no mother or father,” Talia prompted.

“They have pack. They have what they need.”

They need a school
.

She was spared by Lore’s return. “I’m heading over to Bevan’s place. I’ll make it quick.”

“What’s up?” Talia asked.

“Just a fire I have to put out. The Elders have decided they need their own meeting house. He has some suggestions, but I have to figure out how the pack is going to pay for renting a room in the community hall. I don’t know why Obar Ranik’s basement isn’t good enough anymore.”

Mina sorted. “Osan Ziva is jealous. She thinks the Prophets belong to everyone, not just Ranik.”

Lore sighed. “It’s the season.”

Talia was intrigued. Did every community have its petty disputes? “What season?”

“The first full moon after the solstice. Our winter holiday. Now that we are out of the Castle, we can keep the old traditions.”

“It is when Prophets give blessings,” Mina said. “We have feast.”

“Sounds like fun.”

Lore gave a rueful grimace. “Only if I find a room so the Prophets don’t play favorites. I’ll be back in half an hour. This isn’t a priority, but it’s the best way I can catch all the hound warriors at once. They’ve been looking for Belenos, but no luck. We’ve got to rethink the search.”

“Hard to smell one vampire in a city full of strangers,” Mina put in. “Not pack business.”

Lore let that pass without comment. He touched Talia’s shoulder. “You’ll be okay?”

“Sure.” Actually, she dreaded being left to make small talk, but she wasn’t going to complain.

Mina slurped her tea, the noise disapproving, as Lore left the room.

Talia put on her best face and turned back to Mina. The old woman’s stony look rekindled Talia’s dread of being thrown out into the snow. Lore’s back was turned. The incentive for Mina to make nice would drop like a stone.
What do I talk about?
Kids? Teaching? Her usual fallbacks were danger zones because of the school idea.

Talia gave what she hoped was a warm smile. “My grandmother always gave me her mending to do when I went to her house. She made me learn to darn socks.”

“Smart woman.” Another derisive slurp of tea.

The conversation died. Talia toyed with her mug. The bright, primary colors in the room felt like a heat lamp. She was going to start sweating any moment.

Osan Mina suddenly spoke. “Lore needs hellhound woman. There will be no pups until he takes mate. The females do not become fertile.”

Talia set down her tea before she spilled it.
Too much information!

“Really?” Her voice was too high. She wondered if that was what Mavritte had meant about Lore being the pack father. “How is that possible?”

Mina’s eyes were unexpectedly compassionate. “That is our tradition. That is how it must be. He has one mate. We die, we are reborn, we find mate again. Paired always. Never outside pack.”

Despite her shock, Talia felt a puzzle piece fall into place. Half demons were immortal, and yet hellhounds aged and died.
Reincarnation
. That was how they could be both eternal and mortal at the same time.

Talia rubbed at the design on the side of her mug. “Lore hasn’t—uh—connected with his female yet?”

Mina shook her head. “Castle killed many who do not come back. Packs are smaller. Loved ones gone for good.”

It was true that souls could be destroyed—or at least taken out of the reincarnation circuit—by powerful magic. “She’s gone forever?”

Mina shrugged. “Who knows? It is one thing an Alpha can never prophecy.”

Talia was getting confused. Did he have someone waiting or not? “You don’t know who your once and forever mate is before you meet them?”

“Strong hounds find them. The weak die alone.” She gave Talia a hard look. “Alphas must be strong. Finding mate is test.”

Talia got the picture. If Lore didn’t take a mate, not only was the pack supposedly infertile, but he would look like a weak leader. In beast packs, weak leaders were killed.

Irritation and alarm prickled through her. So why was Lore paying so much attention to a Hunter-turnedvampire? She was the worst possible girlfriend he could have. Was she a last-minute fling before he got down to the business of being a literal father to his people? Talia folded her arms, more upset than she had any right to be.

Girlfriend? Get real
. They’d slept together. It wasn’t like they had a committed relationship.

Thick, sour jealousy threatened to suck her down.

Lore had meant more to her than a onetime fling. She was pretty sure he felt the same way, but maybe he wasn’t thinking like an Alpha. Talia had little to lose. He risked far more by being with her.
Why the hell is he doing it?

Why the hell was she letting him? People close to her got hurt: Tom, Max, Michelle. Call it bad luck or a vampire curse; she didn’t need to add Lore to the list.

A sharp rap came at the door. With that unnerving swiftness Talia had seen in Lore, Mina was out of her chair. “Who is it?”

She asked the question in English.
How does she know it’s not one of the hellhounds?

The knock repeated and then the door opened. Apparently, Mina didn’t keep it locked.

Whoever it was called from the front entry. “I’m looking for Lore.”

Talia recognized the voice, but it took her a moment to place it. By the time she searched her memory, the speaker was in the kitchen. She jumped up, putting her chair between herself and the visitor.

“
D
etective Baines,” she said, her voice tight.

“Talia Rostova,” he returned. The detective looked tired and cold, but there was triumph in his expression. “I was looking for Lore in hopes that he could tell me where you were. This is even better.”

Mina gave a low growl and blocked him from moving a step farther into the kitchen. Baines pulled his police ID out of his coat pocket, holding it in plain view. “This is police business. I suggest you stand aside.”