Whiteout (Aurora Sky (22 page)

Tommy's presence had been a huge comfort. Petting his fur was one of the few things that relaxed me.

My body felt stiff from sitting in the truck most of the day
and now standing in place in the cold.

After a good ten minutes, Dante sat on the snowmachine.
“Be right back,” he said. Tommy swung his tail from side to side, ears perked up. Dante
held a hand up. “Tommy
,
stay.” Tommy lowered his tail in acknowledgement.
Once Dante started off, Tommy followed his every movement with his eyes.

He wagged his tail slightly then stopped when Dante disappeared into a thatch of spruce trees.

“He's coming right back, boy,” I said in a soft voice.

You're the one going away.

My t
hroat tightened on that thought.

Tommy's head lifted the moment Dante appeared, walking toward us. Tommy's golden tail swung from side to side. Once Dante was halfway back, Tommy took off running toward him.

Dante joined Giselle
and me
beside the truck.

“M
y machine is tucked away. You good to go, G?”

“I'm ready,” Giselle confirmed. She reached inside her pocket and pulled out a small stack of twenties. She handed the bills to Dante.

“What's this for?” he asked, folding the bills and stuffing them in his bac
k jean
s
pocket.

“Gas money,” Giselle answered. Her eyes narrowed a fraction. “No more motels though. When will you return?”

“Tomorrow midday,” Dante answered. “We'll find a place to sleep once Tommy's taken care of. Maybe Buck and Nicole will let us crash
with them for the night.”

“Make sure no one else sees you,” Giselle warned before climbing onto the rumbling snowmachine.

We watched her ride forward across the snow, picking up speed as she zoomed down the powdery road.

“I guess she got the hang of it,” I
remarked.

Dante turned to the truck.

“And now onto Fairbanks,” he said.

That meant sitting my
sore
ass in the truck yet again, but at least it was just me and the boys for a while. After this errand, I might have to settle in with Dante and Giselle for t
he long haul.

 

    
     

 

Entering Fairbanks gave me the weirdest sense of déjà vu. The last time I was here, I had been with Dante. First mission in the field. Now we were on the run, laying low, hiding from the agency like a couple of renegade vampires.

One of the biggest differences this round was the temperature. The digital sign outside a bank said
twenty-one
degrees Fahrenheit. Last time it had been negative
fifty
-something. Toasty. The beginning of November
was obviously a lot balmier than
January.

“H
ow do
we
contact Buck?” I asked as Dante pulled to a stop at the first
traffic
light.

“Last time I was here, he had evenings off,” Dante replied. “Let's hope that's still the case.”

“I don't know. Do we really have to leave Tommy behind?” I aske
d, my voice catching. “He might think we're abandoning him.”

“I don't like it either,” Dante said. “But I can't risk it. Tommy's used to this sort of thing. He knows he can't accompany me on every mission. This isn't the first time he's had to hang tight
with friends.”

“But he doesn't know them.”

“How about this? If Tommy doesn't like Buck and Nicole, he comes back with us.”

I thought a moment before answering. “Okay. I guess.”

“Tommy will let us know if we can trust Buck to look after him. You'll see.”

Da
nte turned into the parking lot of a pizza joint.

“What now?” I asked, sinking into my seat as Dante pulled into a parking spot.

“Last time I was up here, Buck's girlfriend brought over pizza. It's my turn.”

“Tell me you're not seriously consi
dering waltzi
ng out in public
to place an order?”

Dante put on his baseball cap and grabbed a pair of sunglasses clipped to the visor. “Vamps have no reason to be at food establishments,” he said, putting on the shades.

I snorted. “Unless the vamp's name happens to be
Dante. If we get busted over pizza, I'll never forgive you.”

“Trust me, Sky. There aren't any vamps here and they've got teens working the counter. Most
of
the time they don't even make eye contact. Ian Somerhalder could walk in, order a pie, pay,
then
lea
ve
,
and I bet they wouldn't look up
from the iPhones they have hidden behind the counter
long enough to notice. I'm asking Buck and Nicole to take care of Tommy
.
I don't want to go empty handed. Besides, it might be the last hot meal we have for a while. B
e right back.” Dante left the truck running while he
ducked
inside the restaurant.

I had to wonder if he left it running for warmth or a quick getaway if we needed one.

But Dante was right about vampires and restaurants. They had no reason to eat out
—
or e
at in general. In fact, the rotten ones were more likely to eat in. I gave a slight shudder, remembering the case of the pizza delivery boy who'd been called over to a vamp house, fed on, and killed.

Not what I wanted to think about. Instead, I started won
dering if Buck had any blood in his fridge. If he offered, it would be rude not to accept. Saliva gathered in my mouth
,
thinking I might get more than a lick tonight. Maybe my own
mugful
.

I scooted to the edge of the truck bench and looked at my reflection
in the rearview mirror. The teeth marks on my neck stood out like a red neon sign. I thought my days of wearing scarves were over
,
except to ward off the cold.
I didn't have one with me so I finger combed my hair over my shoulders, covering the wound. Lon
g hair really came in handy.

Twenty minutes after
stepping
inside, Dante returned with three pizza boxes. He walked to the passenger's side, and I opened the door and took the boxes from his hands. Once the pizzas were inside, Dante shut the door and hurri
ed around to the other side.

“I got a meat lover
'
s, veggie supreme, and breadsticks,” he said as he got inside. “I hope you're hungry.”

I was hungry all right, but not for pizza… or solid food in general. I'd just have to nibble on a slice until a more sui
table option presented itself.

Dante didn't talk much during the last leg of the trip. We headed out of town, past all
-
too familiar gravel roads leading into the snowy woods.

Dante turned the truck down one such road.

Fairbanks was the second largest cit
y in Alaska, but I
swore
Anchorage was the only
one that could really call itself a city
. Other than around town,
Fairbanks
didn't seem to have heard of pavement.

I pulled my hair over my shoulders, making sure to cover the bite mark on my neck. I didn't w
ant Buck and Nicole to think I was Dante's human girlfriend or suck buddy.

Dante slowed the truck, turning his head at every driveway we passed. And by
“
driveway,
”
we were talking narrow gravel roads leading even
farther
into the woods.

“Let's see if I can remember which
road
is theirs,” Dante said.

“Good luck. They all look the same.”

What was it with vampires living in the woods? What happened to originality?
In movies like
Underworld
, the vamps lounged around in
corsets
and
fancy attir
e inside palace-like mansions. Alaska seemed to be lacking in high
-
class vampires. Too bad I
'd
had to kill Marcus.

Dante stopped the truck and stared down a dirt road almost identical to the one before it.