1
KOJO
PRESENT DAY DETROIT, MICHIGAN
Ihave seen snow before, but never this much of it. The white covers everything, roads and cars and the skeletal trees that line the motel parking lot. It falls from the sky in fat, lazy flakes that would bury a man if he stood still long enough, and I stand barefoot at the edge of the lot with my toes buried in a drift that reaches my ankles, watching the snow pile higher on the hood of a car.
This is disgusting, my Bouda announces.Why would anyone choose to live in a place where the sky vomits ice?
It is not ice. It is snow.
It is frozen water falling from the clouds. That is ice with better marketing.
I flex my toes in the drift and feel the cold pressing against my skin, but my body runs too hot for the weather to touch me. Steam rises from my bare feet where they meet the snow, little wisps of vapor that curl upward and vanish into the gray afternoon light.
Your feet are melting the ground, my Bouda observes.The humans will notice.
There are no humans watching. The motel parking lot is empty except for three cars, all of them buried under inches of white, and the owners are inside their rooms hiding from the weather. I do not know what humans do when the sky decides to attack them, but I assume it involves complaining and turning up the heat.
Can we go back inside now?my Bouda asks.I hate this. I hate everything about this. I miss the sun and the heat and dirt that does not try to freeze my paws off.
We do not have paws right now.
I have paws in spirit. And they are cold.
I take one last look at the snow, then turn and walk back toward the motel. My feet leave steaming prints in the drift, dark patches that fill back in within seconds as more flakes fall from the sky. The bone I have been chewing on is still clutched in my right hand, stripped clean of meat but still satisfying to gnaw, and I found it in a dumpster behind a restaurant two blocks away. Pork, probably. Maybe beef. My Bouda did not care enough to identify the animal before I cracked it open for the marrow.
Good marrow, my Bouda admits.The cold does one thing right. It preserves the scraps.
I push open the door to room 114 and step inside, bringing a gust of frozen air with me. Kade stands by the window with her arms crossed, her pale face turned toward Aiden, who sits on the edge of one of the two beds with his camera bag clutched against his chest. They are arguing again.
“He’s not normal,” Aiden says. “The way he looked at me, Kade. It was not normal.”
Kade rolls her eyes. “Andrew’s a grown vampire. Take it up with him.”
“Reasons for what? For staring at me like I was a meal?” Aiden shakes his head, his shoulders tight with frustration. “Something is seriously wrong with him, and I don’t want to be anywhere near that bar while we wait for transport.”
I close the door behind me and settle into the chair by the small table, lifting the bone to my mouth. The marrow is gone, but the act of chewing soothes my Bouda, so I keep at it. The argument does not concern me, and I have heard it three times already since we left Thirst Trap.
Vampires are strange creatures, my Bouda says.They smell like death and act like they own everything they look at. I do not understand why the other shifters tolerate them.
Kade notices me and smiles, a quick flash of warmth that disappears as soon as she turns back to Aiden. She has a motherly look about her, which is strange for a vampire. Most of the ones I have encountered smell like old blood and predator instinct, but Kade smells like old blood and warmth. Concern, maybe, or just centuries of practice pretending to care about creatures she could kill without effort.
“You pulled out of Thirst Trap after forty-eight hours,” Kade says to him. “My son has been running that bar for years without incident. Maybe the problem isn’t Andrew.”
He makes a sound in his throat, something between a laugh and a growl. “Are you saying the problem is me?”
“I’m saying you’re human, and humans don’t always get what they’re feeling.”
I keep chewing on my bone, watching the conversation from the corner of my eye. Kade is holding back, and I can smell it on her, a careful kind of restraint that means she knows more than she is saying. Aiden cannot smell it because he is human, but I caught the scent the moment she arrived. She knows why Andrew was staring, and I know too.
Aiden carries a fated scent. It is faint, buried under the soap and coffee and electronics that make up his usual smell, but it is there. Someone out there is meant for him, and based on how Kade keeps dodging the subject, that someone is probably her vampire son. I have not told Aiden this because it is not my business to deliver that kind of news, and my Bouda agrees.
Let the vampire handle his own mess, my Bouda says.We have enough problems without getting involved in someone else’s mating drama.
Kade sighs and uncrosses her arms. “A storm is coming.”
“I know,” I say around the bone. She looks at me with one eyebrow raised, and I shrug. “I can smell it. The pressure has been building since yesterday.” I tap my nose. “Big one. Two days, maybe three.”