Whiteout (Aurora Sky (3 page)

Being compared to bin Laden was a stretch, but somehow the analogy comforted me. Dante had a point though. If the most hated man on Earth could hole up and hide for a decade, we certainly could. Never mind that the evil man had eventually met his demi
se. But we weren't the bad guys in this scenario. Melcher was our Osama, and we knew exactly where he was—not that
it
was any help at the moment.

“We'll get him, Sky,” Dante said. “We'll get them all.” He whistled. “Come on, boy. Inside.”

I followed Dante
and Tommy. The space within the log walls was dim. The room wasn't all that warm. Dante must have thought the same thing. His feet creaked over the floorboards as he went to the stove, twisting the handle and opening the small furnace door.

He muttered und
er his breath before grabbing a log from an iron rack beside the stove. A second and third log quickly followed before he shut the door.

I walked into the single corner room to see what the sleeping arrangement
s
looked like. Two bunk beds. The two bottom b
unks were unmade, a dirty quilt balled up on one and pushed aside on the other. Giselle had purchased three new sleeping bags at an outdoor supply shop, for which I was grateful. Curling up inside my own cozy sleeping bag proved to be the one small comfort
at the end of each day.

One of us would have to take a top bunk. I stepped inside the room to take a closer look. As I approached the bunks, a third quilt caught my eye on one of the top bunks.

“Hey,” I called.

“What?” Dante asked.

He shuffled around the
main room. When it was clear he wasn't coming, I hollered, “I think there's a third vamp shacking up here.”

That
got Dante's attention. His footsteps clomped over the floorboards as he joined me inside the bedroom.

“What did you find?”

I nodded at the top
bunk. “Extra blanket and pillow, looks recently slept in.”

Dante stepped onto the bed underneath and pulled back the blanket. He felt around before stepping down to the floor.

Giselle loomed in the doorframe. “Where did the third one go?” she asked.

Dante
smirked. “Maybe baby bear's gone out for more porridge.”

My shoulders tensed. “Which means he could be coming back.”

“Then let hi
m come back. We'll be waiting.”

 

 

 2

The One Who Got Away

 

Dante strode out of the bunkroom. I backed out and joined him beside the stove, my body shivering. Giselle opened a cupboard, looked inside, closed it, then moved on to the next one.

“I'll stay up and keep watch tonight,” she stated.

“Don't worry,” Dante s
aid. “Tommy's got his ears open. He'll take a bite out of any vamp who walks through that door.”

Tommy lifted his head and wagged his tail after hearing his name.

“Or we could find a new place to crash,” I said. “One where a hostile vampire won't walk in a
nd surprise us.”

Dante frowned. “The sun's going down. Besides, we still have a duty to take down hostiles
,
no matter our current status. Tommy will let us know if anyone approaches.”

Tommy's tail swung around some more.

If only I could be as assured by Da
nte's voice. I turned to the stove and held my hands half a foot from the radiating heat. Warmth filled my palms. Dante saw me and did the same.

Giselle replaced the lid on a jar she'd been inspecting and shot a look our way. “We don't need a fire,” she sa
id. “The cold can't kill us.”

Dante rolled his eyes. “Says the Ice Queen.”

Giselle pursed her lips. A second later she struck a match and lit a kerosene lamp. The flame produced a circle of light on the ceiling, though it appeared less visible through the
glass casing blackened with soot.

I shifted my weight from one foot to the other. The cast
-
iron tea kettle on the floor caught my eye. A cup of hot tea would warm my insides nicely. The water might not be all that hot anymore, but it should at least be wa
rm from sitting in front of the stove. I pulled the lid up and quickly set it back down. Saliva gathered inside my mouth.

“Blood,” I announced.

“At least there's food in this place,” Giselle said, perking up in the form of an uplifted chin and lips that al
most smiled.

She'd flatly refused the Spam Dante had served up at the last cabin. I had too. Just because I drank blood didn't mean I had to subsist on meat, and certainly not canned pork.

“I'll grab one of the extra cups from the cupboard,” Giselle said,
taking note of the two enamel mugs on the floor beside the kettle.

“We have no idea whose blood that is,” I said.

Dante's chest rose. “I may be immortal, but I'm no bloodsucker.”

“You're not immortal,” Giselle said impatiently. “Just because you don't ag
e doesn't mean you can't be killed. You know that better than anyone.”

“And just because I'm
‘undead
,
'
” Dante said, making air quotes, “
doesn't
mean I'm a bloodsucker.”

“Suit yourselves,” Giselle said, moving toward the stove.

Dante stepped in front of her
.

“Stand aside,” Giselle demanded.

Dante's voice rose in challenge. “Or what? You'll gut me? I'm the only one who knows his way around these parts.”

“And I need my strength.”

“Try the hickory
-
smoke
-
flavored Spam. You'll feel like a new woman in no time.”

G
iselle's eyes narrowed. “You will get out of my way, boy.”

Their eyes locked.

Giselle knocked his shoulder as she brushed past him. She bent in front of the stove, pulled her sleeve over her fingers, and used it to grab the kettle's handle. She might not
get cold, but apparently her skin could burn. Once the mug had been filled, Giselle stuck her pinky in to test the temperature. She sucked the blood off her little finger and drank down the rest without pausing for breath.

“Stubborn old woman.” Dante shook
his head and went over to the duffel bag where he pulled out a can of Spam and set it on the scratched surface of the wood coffee table.

Hunger knotted my stomach. Damn, I'd missed my chance.

I backed away from the stove and peered inside the duffel to s
ee if there was anything halfway decent to snack on, all the while thinking of the nicely warmed pot of blood and extra mug in front of the fire.

As tempting as it was, how could I drink blood from an unknown source? What if it had come from a murder vict
im? I shuddered.

Giselle refilled her mug and drank it down as though her life depended on it.

Dante caught me watching her and moved to my side. “She doesn't have to drink blood. She only thinks she does, like we think we need heat. It gives us comfort, b
ut it doesn't keep us alive.”

What if blood was more than a craving? What if we needed it to survive?

“I don't know,” I said. “Maybe the reason we've been okay without blood is because Melcher had his white coats pumping it into us every month along with o
ur fresh dose of toxin.”

Fane told me he'd been drawn to blood as though by instinct before he ever knew he was undead. Then again, he also said his friend and roommate, Joss, went without it for years at a time. Maybe Joss was really a closet bloodsucker.
Either way, he wasn't exactly the poster boy for good health.

“Negative,” Dante said stubbornly. “We can eat, sleep, and drink like any regular person. Maybe I'm undead. Then again, maybe I'm not. If I look the same when I turn forty, maybe I'll believe i
t.”

“We're vampires, bonehead. Do you really have to wait until you're forty to figure that out?” I asked.

“If I ever need blood, I'll get a transfusion.” Dante
pulled the lid back on the Spam,
grabbed a fork
, and
plopped onto the tattered couch where he a
te out of the can.

My feet anchored me in place. Nothing to eat or drink. Nowhere to sit. Since fleeing Girdwood, a lonely ache worse than hunger had taken permanent residence in the pit of my stomach.

Giselle straightened to her feet. “It's time to feed T
ommy.”

Tommy thumped his tail on the floor.

Giselle rummaged through the bag as Tommy moved to her side and stared up at her. “We're getting low on dog food.”

“
T
here's another bag in the truck,” Dante said.
“
Try topping it with
Spam.
He'll love you for li
fe.”

Giselle gave Dante the stare. It was the same cold, vacant look I'd seen in Melcher's eyes many times. Maybe it was a vampire thing. Maybe it took years to perfect. Years both Giselle and Melcher had on us.

“
Altering
his diet could upset his stomach,”
Giselle said.

Dante's fork scraped against the can right before he shoveled in another forkful. Once the utensil cleared his lips, he pointed the fork at Giselle. “Are you talking about Tommy or yourself?” he asked between chews.

My nose wrinkled. Glad I
wasn't kissing those lips. I could definitely pass on a Spam
 
smack.

“I'll check the truck,” Giselle said
,
rather than answer
ing
Dante's question.

She headed
out
the door without a coat or hat, Tommy following her outside.

Once the door closed, I looked at
Dante and rolled my eyes. “Giselle
,
the dog whisperer.”

He tossed his empty can of Spam onto the coffee table. “Yeah, right. At least she's making herself useful.”

“Do you trust her?” I asked.

“Tommy trusts her,” Dante said. “Besides, we don't need her. S
he needs us.” He propped one foot then the other on the coffee table.

“We need her cash,” I said.

Despite my misgivings, I did like having our own walking, talking ATM. Thanks to Giselle we had food and supplies.

“Nah,” Dante said. Stubborn as ever. “We
could get by without cash
,
no problem. If we have to borrow things along the way, that's just how it goes when you serve the greater good. There are moose and caribou in this area.
All I need is a hunting rifle in the winter and a fishing pole in the summe
r
. I can feed us without spending a dime.” He stretched his legs and leaned back.

I placed my hands on my hips. “I don't want you to kill animals.”

“Do you want to survive?” he asked.

“I can survive on blood.”

Dante pulled his feet from the table. They mad
e a thump as they hit the floor. “We're not blood junkies.”

Dante stormed over to the stove and snatched the tea kettle off the floor. His feet banged against the floorboards as he approached the front door, yanked it open, and threw the kettle outside. He
gave the door a shove, slamming us inside.

Anger flared in my cheeks. “Feel better?” I asked.

He stomped his way back to the stove. “I'd feel a lot better if that third vamp got his rotten ass over here so I could kill him and toss him out too.”

“Well, ar
en't you tough,” I said sarcastically.

Dante straightened. “Tough enough to take down every vamp in the state.”

My hands pressed into my sides. “I guess we'll see.”

“Yeah, we will.”

The front door flew open. Giselle stood in the frame, looking between us.
“What happened?” she asked.