Whiteout (Aurora Sky (21 page)

“We moved to America. We were able to buy a plot of land and turn it into a farm. Andre, Etienne, and I
worked the land. Henriette ran the household.”

Giselle stared out the windshield. It looked like she was focused on something in the distance.

“Good,” Dante said. “Then you're used to living off the land.” He turned the knob on the radio.

Static buzzed th
rough the speakers and Dante twisted the dial again. More static. Another twist and we had a mix of bluesy static. He turned it off and began humming.

Giselle folded her arms and slouched in her seat. Her lower lip seemed to pout. I had to hand it to Dante
;
he could get under anyone's skin—even ancient vampire skin.

I was curious about America during her pioneer days, but Giselle's demeanor and general personality kept me from asking any more questions.

Unlike Fane. Fane could talk for hours on end and I'd
only want to hear more. And there I was, thinking about Fane again. Giselle wasn't the only one hurtling into the Alaskan interior minus loved ones. Dante and I could never replace the family she'd lost. And I could never warm up to Giselle.

My mind turned
to static, much like the radio earlier. Snowflakes drifted over the landscape, making a lazy descent along the mountains, forest, and road. Soon it was like the static had materialized outside all around us as the truck plowed into a scattered flurry of b
illowy white flakes.

There was that blizzard they'd mentioned on the news. If only a storm could hide us from the agency. Black hair didn't blend well with a blizzard. No more than an ink splotch on a white sheet of paper. Maybe I should bleach it platinum
blond
. Cut it short. Go for a whole new look.

Dante stopped humming. “Ready to round up the snowmachines? We need to go stealth.”

Since when had Dante ever had a stealth mode? Was that even possible with our pictures circling the area like snowflakes?

 

    
     

 

Before heading to the cabin, we hit up the nearest town for supplies. Giselle did the shopping while Dante, Tommy, and I stayed out of sight in the truck. Luckily she was quick.

On the way out of town, t
he wind kicked up, blowing snow sideways
at the truck. Dante turned on the windshield wipers, and they flicked back and forth for the next
fifteen
minutes before the
flurries
let up.

“Yeah, we're going to need those snowmachines,” I said.

“That's not all we need,” Dante said. “I hope Mr. Manning
has a couple sleds to attach on back or else good luck getting supplies to the lodge.”

Mr. Manning, it turned out, had one sled attachment. The important thing
s
were
the snowmachine
s
—
two in total
—
and a trailer to haul them away with. Poor Mr. Manning
;
his son had picked the wrong friend.

One of the benefits of freshly fallen snow was the lack of tire tracks
, which
indicated
no one currently occupied the cabin.

Dante got to work immediately. He ran around to the back of the cabin and returned with a spa
re key that opened the shed. We didn't even have to break in, though it felt like the same thing.

While Giselle and I stepped in as needed, Tommy trotted around the property sniffing and marking.

As soon as the trailer was attached and snowmachines
were
lo
aded securely, Dante called for everyone to get in the truck and haul out. From the tight lock of his jaw, it was clear to see he took no pleasure lifting the machines from his friend's family. He didn't speak, sing, or hum on the drive back to home base.

As expected, we
wouldn't
have made it the last bit of the way to the lodge driving the truck. We were able to follow a set of tire tracks leading off the highway into the mountains, but eventually the tracks passed the road into the lodge. None led in
,
whi
ch was a good thing.

Forcing the gas, Dante plowed the truck through the snow on the edge of the road, leaving enough room for another vehicle to pass. Once he turned the engine off, we all dismounted and set to work unloading the snowmachines.

Well, m
ore
like
we
watched
Dante start them up and drive each one down a metal ramp. The engine
on the first
puttered, sounding similar to a lawn mower. Once running, Dante moved to the machine with the sled and got the engine running. I could feel the hum inside my
chest. Born and raised in Alaska, yet I'd never ridden a snowmachine.

I bet Fane had. Fane had done it all. He'd ridden a motorcycle across the desert in the Dakar
Rally
. Probably jumped out of planes and gone deep
-
sea diving too. Nothing would surprise m
e. And I thought Dante was a thrill seeker. Fane lived large. He had the funds to do so. There were people who would have chosen to spend it on fancy cars, homes, and art, but not Fane. He spent his resources and time on travel and experiences. My kind of
guy… except he wasn't mine at all.

“Could you help me?” Giselle asked impatiently.

While I was daydreaming, she'd begun moving supplies from the back of the truck to
the
sled attached to the machine
.

I leaned over the edge of the truck bed. In addition to a large bag of dog food and grocery sacks filled with canned goods, there were steel traps that had
scraped
against the bottom. Their
sharp-teethed
clamps were closed, chains curling behind them like
scorpion tales.

“Please tell me those traps aren't for catching dinner,” I said.

Giselle came over to my side and stood on tippy toes to scoop up the traps. “These are to bury beneath the snow around the lodge in case anyone comes after us.”

I whipped arou
nd as Giselle carried the traps to the sled.

“Are we expecting company or something?” I asked her back.

The only answer I received was the clank and rattle of chains as Giselle dumped the traps in the sled. I reached for the bag of dog food when a hand su
ddenly stopped me.

“Leave it,” Dante said.

I hadn't noticed him approach.

I faced Dante, a question on my lips, but before I could ask, he said, “Tommy needs to stay with a friend until we sort this mess out.”

Tommy's ear perked up when he heard his name.
He trotted over and nudged Dante's hand. Dante scratched behind Tommy's ears.

“Things could go south at any moment,” Dante said, hand resting on Tommy's head. “I don't want my buddy getting caught in any crossfire or stepping into one of Giselle's vamp tr
aps.”

My heart gave a sick twist at the thought.

“I hate to ask the obvious, but is that really an option? The agency must have eyes on your family and friends.”

Giselle loomed behind Dante, listening.

Dante breathed in deep before answering. “That's why T
ommy needs to stay with someone the agency would never expect. Buck.”

My jaw dropped. “Buck? The vampire you were sent to check out after Crist's murder?”

“Yeah.
Him
and his girlfriend
,
Nicole,” Dante confirmed.

“You're kidding.”

“Like I said before, he's
cool. And she's human. What choice do I have?”

I chewed on my lip.

“It is a wise decision,” Giselle spoke up. “I don't want anything to happen to the dog.”

Dante looked at me. “You and I should take him there now.” He waited until I nodded before turning t
o Giselle. “Do you know how to drive a snowmachine?”

“I'll manage,” Giselle said. “I will take the one with the supplies and begin setting up.”

My heart gave a sick lurch. “Don't
go
setting up traps before we get back,” I said.

Rather than respond to my co
mment, Giselle said, “Radio me before you ride in.”

“Will do,” Dante said. “In the meantime, I'll hide the second machine in that patch of woods up there once it's had a chance to warm up.” He looked down the snow
-
covered road.

While the machines hummed i
n place, Dante gave Giselle driving tips. As I listened in, I sidled up to Tommy and stroked his fur. The pit inside my stomach widened with each passing minute at the thought of dropping him off with strangers, but Dante was right. The lodge wasn't a safe
place for him. Nowhere we went was safe as long as the agency and vampires were hunting us.