Kelley Armstrong - Frostbitten

I glanced at Clay. He took Tesler's clothing from me. "You go on. I'll catch up."

THE FIRST HALF of the walk was nearly silent. I could say that Morgan had just been uncharacteristically chatty earlier, after months talking to no one, but I got the impression he was, by nature, the kind of guy who talks a lot to cover the fact that he doesn't say very much.

It was a trait I recognized well. Not so much the chatty part-I've never been the type-but I've always been quick to join a conversation and hold up my end, which usually hides the fact that I'm not giving away anything of myself. Act friendly and sociable, and people won't realize that you're keeping them firmly on the other side of your comfort zone.

I think what quieted Morgan down was Clay sending me off with him alone. Morgan was not only a stranger, but a younger, good-looking mutt. For Clay to casually allow me to go off with him must have seemed suspicious. Maybe he took offense at the suggestion that he didn't pose a threat. But if I had to hazard a guess, I'd say he suspected he was being tested… or set up.

After we'd walked for a while, with no sign of Clay or the others lurking in the trees, he relaxed and maybe understood the simple truth-Clay trusted me, trusted I could take care of myself, and trusted I wasn't the least bit susceptible to cute younger werewolves, which on this trip was proving to be a good thing.

So he finally started to talk again. He'd heard I was Canadian and asked where I was from, tossing in a few barbs about Toronto, which is our version of New York -everyone who doesn't live there has nothing but contempt for everyone who does. When he found out I reported on Canadian affairs, he asked for news of his home province-the, ongoing sad state of the fisheries, the new offshore oil projects.

Wherever we were going, it was a long trudge through difficult landscape. But Morgan didn't have a problem traversing it, a fact he liked to point out every time he had to slow for me.

"Do you hear that?" I asked when a low moan set the hairs on my neck rising.

"Wind."

"No, I've heard wind, and that's not-"

"Trust me, up here, the wind does things you've never heard before. Sometimes I swear I hear voices. Entire conversations. I go to check it out, and there's no one there. I tell myself it's the wind, but… " He shrugged.

"There's something out here, isn't there?"

He hopped a fallen log buried under the snow. "There are a lot of somethings out here. Those beast-shifters are just the beginning. Voices, lights… "

"I've seen the lights. They led me onto a frozen river last night-that wasn't frozen nearly well enough."

"I don't doubt it. I've had them lead me nearly over a cliff, and I've had them light my way back to the wolf pack. Capricious little buggers. I find tracks I don't recognize, scents I can't place, catch glimpses of shadows. Alaska 's the last frontier-for man, beast and spirit alike. Now we'd better pipe down. The cabin's just ahead."

"Are you going to tell me who's responsible?"

A flashed grin. "No, I'll leave that up to your nose. See how long it takes you to figure it out."

As trustworthy as Morgan seemed, I couldn't help feeling those niggling pricks of paranoia. But now it took only one strong sniff to know he was playing me fair.

"Eli," I said.

"Is that his name? The young beast-shifter?"

I nodded. I glanced quickly at Morgan. "The girl. He didn't-"

"Rape her? No. Nothing like that, or I would have interfered. He found her and took care of her. She's not his prisoner, though she's probably not in any shape yet to think about leaving. But I suspect teenage infatuation-and teenage hormones-are at the root of this particular act of altruism."

"Damn." I sighed. "You were right then. This is a situation. I guess the first thing to do is get a look at the girl." I checked the wind. "No sign that Eli's still here."

"I've got your back."

"Thanks."

I moved forward, straining to see a building in the distance, and suddenly there it was right in front of me-a tiny wood log cabin, nestled among the trees.

I pulled back and took a good sniff. Still no sign of Eli. The scent of wood smoke lingered in the air, but none came from the chimney. All the windows were dark. I crept forward, Morgan at my heels. As quietly as I moved, though, he was quieter. I hesitated, then motioned him forward. I hated giving up the front spot, but the quietest tracker should lead.

Morgan took no more than a half-dozen steps before he stopped, swore and strode forward.

"Wait!" I called. "If you spook her-"

"Can't spook her when she's not here."

He wrenched open the cabin door. I peered around him into the dark, dank depths of the cottage. The empty depths.

Morgan swore again. I joined him. "If she escaped and she's out here alone… "

Morgan was already crouched, checking out the trail. He brushed past me and hunkered down outside, moving about until he'd covered the area.

"She's not alone," he said. "Eli relocated her. In the last hour, too. I tried not to get too close, but I wanted to get a look at her, make sure she hadn't been bitten."

My stomach twisted. "Had she?"

"Nah. That guy used his fists, not his teeth, thankfully. But Eli must have found my trail, and knew I was coming around, checking up on her."

Snow crunched in the distance. Morgan wheeled, straightening and stiffening as he lifted his head to catch the breeze.

"Did our situation turn into a problem?" Clay called as he stepped from the thick trees with Antonio, Nick and Reese close behind.

"A small one, I hope," I said.

As I explained, Morgan followed the trail, then came back to say it led into the nearest creek… and disappeared.

"He waded through it. So what I'd suggest… " Morgan began, then looked at the faces of the others, all turned toward me. "Or maybe not… "

"We split into pairs," I said. "If anyone other than me finds him, call for backup. I've talked to him, so I know how to handle it. If you bump into the other Shifters, tell them you're with me and we've done as they asked. Now, for pairings… " I turned to Reese. "How's your tracking?"

He opened his mouth, chin lifting a fraction, clearly ready to say his tracking skills were top-notch. Then he glanced at Nick, and said, "Not bad."

"All right then, you come with me. Nick goes with Antonio. Clay? You and Morgan?"

Clay nodded. Morgan slanted a wary look his way.

"Um, I'd really rather pair up with… " Morgan began, then glanced around at everyone else getting ready to go. "Or, I suppose it doesn't really matter what I want, does it?"

"Sorry," I said. "This works best. You concentrate on tracking; he'll have your back."

And we split up.

I'D BE LYING if I didn't say I picked Reese more for his company than for his skills. He hadn't said much since arriving. Under the circumstances, that wasn't surprising. But I wanted to make sure he was okay. I felt… I don't know, responsible, I guess, having been the one to send him to the Sorrentinos.

"How are your fingers?" I asked as we walked along the creek-bank, trying to pick up Eli's trail.

"Still gone," he said. "Jeremy stitched me up good and gave me painkillers, so it's just a matter of getting used to not having them. I keep fumbling stuff. It'd be worse if I'd lost the whole fingers, though. And if I have to lose part of two, better those ones than the thumb and index. And better fingers than my hand. Better part of my hand than my life… " A wry smile. "I'm trying to look on the bright side."

"I'm sorry it happened. If we'd known there were other mutts in Anchorage -"

"And if I had stopped long enough to hear you out… Or if I'd tried to contact the Pack and explain instead of running… Or if I hadn't hooked up with those losers in the first place… I'm pretty sure the blame falls squarely at my feet on this one. You guys have been great to me." He looked over, meeting my gaze. "Really."