White Winter (The Black Year Series Book 2) (4 page)

“We won’t get pulled over,” Jonas said.

“Of course we’ll get pulled over, we’re in a hearse. There’s a coffin in the back with a corpse in it.”

Jonas snorted. “He’s not a corpse, he’s just sleeping.”

“He’ll be a corpse if a cop pulls us over, thinking two teenagers took a hearse for a joyride, and opens that coffin in broad daylight.”

Jonas crossed his arms. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Kieran’s mouth twitch into a faint smile. This was how Bert and Phillip talked to each other, back before things went bad. Maybe that was how werewolves interacted, nipping at each other’s heels, a reassuring reinforcement of the hierarchy. It was certainly something Kieran had been forced to live without when he was sent to train at the Agency. “I won’t tell anyone,” Jonas said.

Kieran furrowed his brow, eyes darting to Jonas. “You won’t tell anyone what?” he said, grabbing his water bottle from the cup holder.

“You know,” Jonas said. “I won’t tell anyone if you stick your head out the window for a bit.”

Kieran choked on his water, almost swerving into a car passing them. The driver honked angrily as both Kieran and Jonas waved their apologies and tried not to laugh.

“Did those guards give you any trouble after I left?”

“Not really. Not much they could do, once you were past them. Besides, werewolves don’t hold grudges.” The last bit sounded like Kieran had learned it by rote.

“I got the impression werewolves don’t care for vampires much.”

“That’s not a grudge, it’s instinct and history. It doesn’t help that some of the vampires responsible for killing hundreds of my people are still alive. Did your mother ever tell you how she earned her name?”

“I thought she was born with it.” He’d accepted that his father had taken his mother’s name because she’d sired him. It hadn’t occurred to him she hadn’t always been Alice Black.

“She was born Lady Aliz Brunsvik,” Kieran said. “Your grandfather was a Hungarian count.” Jonas raised an eyebrow; Doris had called his mother Aliz too.

“Everyone seems to know more about her than me.”

Kieran shrugged. “She’s our bogeyman. I spent my early childhood terrified Black Alice was under my bed, before Bert gave me something real to worry about.”

They were two hours into Pennsylvania, surrounded by snow-dusted pines that turned the highway into a canyon as it shot east and upward through fields, game preserves, and mountain passes. There was an absence of humanity in the cold, untouched landscape that Kieran seemed to drink in, becoming larger and more at home even as Jonas shrunk, the hiss of the wheels on the asphalt broken only by the occasional passing car. Kieran’s last comment had a feel of fragility to it, though, like the snap of thawing ice underfoot.

“I’m sorry about your dad,” Jonas said.

Kieran’s face twitched. The leather on the steering wheel creaked from how hard he was gripping it.

“I’m sorry about Bert, too.”

“Bert knew what the law was.”

“That’s important to you, isn’t it? The law?”

“It’s - I’m a winter wolf. It’s my duty.” An edge had crept into Kieran’s voice. “You should probably visit my family at some point, clan leader. They expect you to.”

Jonas bit his lip and nodded. “Okay.”
What am I going to say to them? Hey, it’s me! I got Phillip killed!
“Just let me know when.”

Kieran grunted.

“I really meant it about that window offer. No one’s looking.”

Kieran looked over at him, then said, “You know what? I’m going to do it. Take the wheel.”

“What?”

Jonas scrambled to grab the steering wheel, swerving across both lanes, while Kieran lowered the window and stuck his head out. They accelerated. “Uh… Kieran?”

Jonas could see Kieran’s shoulders shaking with laughter as Jonas blinked against the blast of cold air Kieran was letting in. After about ten seconds, Kieran dropped back into the seat, eyes wide, grinning, hair blown back, and said, “That was amazing! The smells… you should—”

His face froze, staring at the rear-view. Jonas turned and saw red and blue lights flashing behind them.

♘

The wheels crunched on gravel as Kieran pulled over and started bucking in the seat to get his wallet out of his jeans. He looked horrified.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll take care of him,” Jonas said.

“I’d rather you not use your powers to break the law,” Kieran said, tight-lipped, finally managing to yank the wallet out of his pocket after slumping halfway down the seat.

“I’d rather the Agency not find out you were hanging out the window.”

Kieran clamped his jaw shut, then jumped as the cop knocked on the window. Jonas snorted.

“It’s not funny,” Kieran said, rolling down the window.

Jonas nodded, his face serious. Watching the six-foot, 200-pound killing machine be terrified by a traffic stop wasn’t funny; it was hilarious.

The cop leaned forward, staring at them from the depths of a fur-lined hood, and Jonas was struck by how gaunt he looked. He was pale, his eyes were sunken and dull, and his lips were cracked by the cold. Kieran leaned away from him, and when he spoke, even Jonas could smell the stench of cigarettes. “License and registration?”

Kieran glanced at Jonas.

Right, Jonas thought, focusing his mind on muddling the cop’s.
This was all a mistake. I thought I saw something, but I didn’t, and I should just let the kids go.

“Son, it’s cold, and I’d like to get back to my car. Could you hand me your license and registration? They’re in your hand.”

Jonas blinked in surprise. Kieran handed the card and folded piece of paper over, and the cop trudged back to his car.

Kieran and Jonas looked at each other.

“I thought you were going to take care of it,” Kieran whispered.

“I tried. Nothing happened.”

“What do you mean nothing happened? You took Fangston down. How can—”

“Do you know how fast you were going?” the cop said, standing at the window again. This time, Kieran actually yelped.

“No, sir,” Kieran said.

“That might be on account of you driving with half your body out the window,” he said sternly. Kieran was right; this wasn’t funny. “Did you consume any alcohol or drugs today?”

“No, sir,” Jonas and Kieran answered together.

“What’s in the back, boys?”

“A coffin, officer,” Jonas answered.

“If you don’t mind me saying so, you’re a little young to work in a funeral parlor, and you’re not dressed for it,” he said, then looked at Jonas and added, “What high school do you go to, son?”

“I—”

“Never mind, it’s not important. I’m going to have to take a look in that coffin.” The cop turned and walked around the back of the hearse, then knocked on the hatchback. “Come on, son, open it up. It’s cold out here.”

Kieran looked at Jonas with a look of complete terror on his face. Jonas felt his throat tightening. Then he laughed. He was doing the same thing he’d laughed at Kieran for a minute ago. “I can’t believe we’re putting up with this.” He got out of the car.

“Get back in the car, son!” the cop said, hand on his holster.

“You get back in yours,” Jonas said, and threw his entire will at him. He winced as buds of pain bloomed inside his skull, like stitches tearing.
Guess I’m not fully recovered,
he thought.

The cop stumbled two steps backward, almost falling over. He raised a hand to shade his eyes, squinting at Jonas, then shook his head and said, “If you’ve got a vampire in there, son, why didn’t you just say so?”

Two minutes later, Jonas got back in the hearse and put his seatbelt on.

“What happened?” Kieran said.

“He’s from Temperance, the town we’re checking out.”

Kieran frowned. “We’re over an hour away, what’s he doing here?”

Jonas bit his lower lip. There was a tightness developing in his stomach and chest, as if something nasty was rushing toward his exposed back. He was tempted to try waking the enforcer in the coffin. Jonas rubbed his eyes and said, “It’s just a speed trap. We’re being paranoid, after what happened in November.”

The cop started his car and pulled up alongside, “Clinton County Sheriff” painted in black and gold letters on the door of his white Chevy Trailblazer. “Just follow me, I’ll take you straight there!” he shouted through the passenger-side window.

Jonas nodded at Kieran, who shrugged and started the engine, pulling out behind the cop’s SUV with his hands at ten and two, eyes scanning, no longer relaxed. On a whim, Jonas turned on the radio and a light, acoustic ballad started playing. “I think I know this one,” Jonas said, trying to sound cheerful.

Kieran’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. “Bad Moon Rising,” he said. “This is not going to be a good day.”

♘

They followed the squad car off the interstate to a town called Lock Haven, a spatter on the map of quaint, two-story homes that looked like dollhouses to Jonas after growing up in Manhattan. They drove straight through, following the river, then turned left, chasing a rusted pair of railroad tracks up into the mountains. Whole sections of track had been removed or were overgrown, and they passed several abandoned houses, sheds, and cars slowly being reclaimed by the surrounding forest.

As the road climbed, the traces of neglect were hidden under a thin layer of fresh, white snow, spotted in places by animal tracks. Kieran seemed to shed his cares as they saw a deer darting through the woods to the right, and probably would have asked to go hunting if they’d been traveling alone. A freshly painted sign announced a population of 3,162 souls.

“Welcome to Temperance,” Jonas read aloud.

CHAPTER 4

“Here you go, boys,” the cop said, walking into the police station lounge and putting two steaming mugs of hot chocolate on the table before sitting down with Kieran and Jonas. Jonas cupped his, feeling returning to his fingers. If he closed his eyes, it felt like he was growing new digits.

“Where is everyone?” Kieran asked.

The cop shrugged, “Not much call for police in a town without crime. I mostly deal with the highway and visitors,” he said, looking at Jonas and Kieran. Jonas read his name off his tan, button down uniform shirt. With his coat hung up, snow shaken out of his sandy hair, and a little ChapStick, deputy Davison turned out to be a perfect host, with full, red cheeks and an easy smile, though his eyes were still cold.

“Is that why you were so far from town?” Kieran asked. They’d driven another hour before pulling into Temperance, Pennsylvania, nestled in the winding roads north of the Susquehanna River.

Davison looked down at his hands, which were almost the size of Kieran’s and more weathered. “You build up a tolerance to the mind control, over time. Some people are more resistant than others, and the picture starts to fade out at the edges. Neighbors and friends start wondering why you aren’t seeing the perfect world they’re living in; feelings get hurt. It got a lot worse, this past year. I just… like to drive off a ways and get some perspective,” he said.

Jonas looked down at his hot chocolate, marshmallows bobbing placidly as their siblings melted and sunk. “I don’t know much about your town. Why is there a puppeteer here?”

Davison’s eyes were unfocused, staring somewhere above and to the right of Jonas’ head. “There’s a mine, north of the town. The coal used to turn iron into steel in Pittsburgh and put food on a lot of tables around here. Miners would spend their money on liquor, fight over women… Nothing serious; gave us cops something to do.

“Don’t know if it was the unions, the new environmental regulations, or the owner’s son that screwed it all up, but the mine closed and the town started dying. Money dried up, kids leaving for the city… The vampire came along and said he could stop the bleeding - no pun intended. It’s been eight years.”

No wonder I couldn’t push thoughts to him, Jonas thought. The cop had been subjected to mental powers continuously for most of a decade, and had a natural resistance on top of that. “Can you take us to him?”

Davison shook his head. “Need to head back out to the road,” he said, then smiled warmly. “The other inspectors always took a look around town, first. Just walk up to people and ask whatever you need to, get a couple of free meals in… I’m sure they’ll be expecting you.” His expression slipped for a moment as he muttered to himself. Then he stood, grabbed his coat, and walked toward the door.

“What should we do with the mugs?” Jonas asked.

“Just put those in the sink when you’re done,” he said, without stopping.

♘

They drove around the town for about an hour, just watching. Children played in their yards, wrapped in jackets, gloves, and knit caps, slinging snowballs and making snow angels. Couples walked, hand in hand, their breath steaming in front of them. People waved at them and smiled. The walkways, driveways, and sidewalks were all shoveled, the roads in good repair, and everyone seemed to recycle.

“Nice town,” Kieran commented.