Grabbing the stick shift, I slipped my rig into the next
gear. The grind and moan of the engine as the truck shifted
and shuddered pulled me out of my reverie. The wheels slid a
bit across the smooth surface of the ice. I drove closer to
the side of the road, where the wheels could pick up a fine
dusting of snow to keep traction.
Then I felt it. A presence I hadn’t felt in a while. My
body instantly came alive, my blood heating, my heart
thundering between my ears at the thought of him so close.
Shit, not now.
Arthur was out there, somewhere in the ice fields. I
looked at the pipe I used to tighten the chains. It was in
easy reach, but I doubted I would need it.
Sure enough, up ahead I saw a figure standing in the snow
bank, his head bowed.
Arthur.
Any other person would’ve died from exposure, but
Incarnates could handle extreme conditions. In his hands
were the two familiar blades he hunted with, like two black
ice picks. A thin trail of breath escaped from under his
hood as he crouched low. I had no doubt what he was going to
do, and, as my truck neared him, I heard the blades pierce
through the cabin of my rig. A blast of cold air instantly
infiltrated the warmth of my cabin through the two holes he
made.
Most people would’ve freaked out, but Arthur obviously
knew I had no time to stop on the thin ice road. Still I
wish he didn’t have to punch the holes in the side of my
rig. That was uncalled for.
"Leave him out there. Let him freeze, let him fall. He
can’t hold on forever."
I looked to the side mirror and saw the flutter of his
long jacket.
"Don’t do it," my older soul warned. I ignored her and
reached beside me, hitting the button to unlock the
passenger side door. Arthur opened it and quickly swung into
the cabin, sitting in the passenger seat on top of the
manila folder. His manila folder.
Quickly surveying him from the corner of my eye, I was
surprised by how he had changed in the last decade. Gone was
the boyish fresh face. He looked older, like he had aged
twenty years in the last ten.
His mohawk was gone as well, which was a pity. Instead,
his hair hung to his shoulders in chestnut waves, currently
coated with frost. Arthur’s teeth chattered and he was
breathing heavily. His complexion was sallow, as if he had
been ill recently or hiding away in a hole, which was more
likely the truth. Looking, I could see his deadly blades
still embedded in the side of my truck.
"Thanks for letting me in. I didn’t think you would."
"Why wouldn’t I?"
"I thought maybe because of…"
"Because of The Agency being out for your hide?"
"So you know?"
"I know," I said, quietly swallowing the hard lump
choking me.
"And yet you opened the door for me. You have a kind
heart, Cia."
"I shouldn’t have, especially when I’m your next mark."
Arthur’s eyes widened. "You think I’m behind the
murders?"
I let out a snort. "No, I don’t believe it, but there’s
one hell of a bounty on your head."
He chuckled. "I figured there would be, and I figured
they would send you out to find me."
"They didn’t. I’m banished. They sent others."
"Oh." He surveyed the small, tight confines of the cabin.
"I thought you would’ve been the one to track me."
"I was told you’d come and find me. You’re sitting on my
bounty file."
Arthur reached down and slid the manila folder from under
his posterior. He opened it and from the way the color
drained from his face I knew he most definitely couldn’t be
the killer. Especially when he picked up the picture with
the threat scrawled on the wall.
"Cia, you know I—"
"I know." I turned my attention back onto the ice road in
front of me. "Still, there’s a large bounty and Trackers
hunting you down. No one has heard from you in a long time,
you have a motive and I have thirty days to find the killer
or…"
"Yeah, the Wrath comes and gets me." He set the folder
down on the dashboard and it slid forward. He shoved his
hood back and took his gloves off. "Sorry about the holes in
your truck."
"You’ll be paying for those."
He chuckled again and my heart swelled a bit. The look on
his face when I killed Henry had haunted me. I’d never
thought I would hear Arthur laugh again.
"With what?" He held out his hands in supplication. "You
could turn me in and get the bounty."
"Not just yet." I shifted the truck again and Arthur eyed
me suspiciously.
"Since when did you learn how to drive a big rig, let
alone drive the ice roads? Are you wishing for death?"
"Perhaps I like cheating it just a little bit."
He grinned. "You always did. So, when do we stop?"
"Not for a while yet. This is water I’m driving over. I
don’t stop until the end. Then we can discuss what needs to
be done."
"What needs to be done is find the bastard who is using
my talisman and killing Guards. Whoever’s doing this has to
be an Incarnate as well."
"Why do you say that? It could be a disgruntled fallen
angel, or a demon."
Arthur shook his head. "Once angels fall they have no
real power, nor do the lesser demons who escape through the
portals. They wouldn’t have the knowledge to do this."
"That’s bullshit teachings of the Elders, Arthur, and you
know it." I could feel the ire rising in me. The Elders
liked to restrict what we knew about the beings that passed
through our portals. It made no sense. Thankfully Michael
had taught me a bit more. "Remember the fallen archangel,
Nicholas?"
I regretted the words the instant they came out of my
mouth. Nicholas had been attracted to the dark arts and was
also the one who’d lured Henry to sell his souls to the
Devil. I quickly looked at Arthur. His mouth was slack, his
eyes glazed over, as he stared out at the frozen wasteland.
He looked like he was going to be sick.
"Fine," he finally said, breaking the silence. "Then it
could be, but it’s highly unlikely an angel or demon could
slip through a portal undetected."
"Highly," I agreed. The last thing I wanted to do was
talk about Henry and his death.
"Got anything to eat?"
"In the back on the shelf there are some cupcakes."
He made a tsk sound under his breath. "I meant real food.
You still eat this crap?"
"It’s my vice."
I heard him rummaging in the back and I kept my gaze on
him in the rearview mirror. It was in the split second I
took my eyes off the road and focused on him that the sound
of ice shattering made my heart stop. Not the usual rumble
of thunder.
Gripping the stick, I tried to downshift to avoid the
hole that opened up in the middle of the ice road. The
brakes felt like Jell-O and though my truck slowed, it was
pointless. I slid right for the hole. The black, frigid
water looked like a giant mouth about to swallow me whole.
This was it.
This was how I was to die for the second time.