Read Online Frostbound by Sharon Ashwood - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Sharon Ashwood
Tags: Fiction > Urban Fantasy
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“Roads’ll be hell by morning. No one here knows how to drive in this shit.”
The detective turned away from the window, then stiffened. He was looking at a desk with a laptop pushed into the corner of the living room. Lore recognized the detritus of a thinker’s profession: highlighters, sticky notes, bits of torn paper used as page markers, and more books than any one person could reasonably read. A teacher, perhaps? A stack of papers sat on one corner of the desk. The title page of the top one said Paradise Lost .
Lore wondered how anyone could sit still long enough to read that many books.
“What did the missing cousin do for a living?” Baines addressed no one in particular, raising his voice to be heard by all.
The answer came from the young cop who’d pointed out the blood on the wall. “Rostova’s a sessional tutor at the university. She’s got a master’s in education and a bachelor’s in Western literature.”
Baines gave a low whistle. “So she knows Latin?”
“I guess, maybe,” the young cop replied.
Lore understood why Baines had asked. There was a Latin dictionary sitting on the desk. The detective shifted some of the other books stacked on the desk. “Beginning Latin Translation. Virgil’s Aeneid . Pride and Prejudice. Anna Karenina . A DVD of Hugh Grant’s greatest hits . Good to have balance.”
A ripple of puzzlement passed over Lore. He could usually sniff people out. But with her endless shopping bags, glittery cell phone, and ridiculous heels, Lore would never have guessed Talia was a teacher. She didn’t put out the smart girl vibe. But then she didn’t put out the knife-fighter vibe, either.
She was deep in hiding, and better at it than anyone had guessed.
Maybe someone had found her out, and gone after her. If so, why?
Or maybe Lore was entirely wrong, and he had a murdering fiend chained to his bed.
He looked out at the snow, watched it gusting down the cold, dry street like handfuls of sugar. It was starting to stick to the grass.
Baines came to stand beside him. “If this keeps up, the city’s going to be shut down by morning.”
“That will make it hard for our killer to run.”
Baines snorted. “You’d be surprised how well they usually hide in plain view.”
Chapter 8
Tuesday, December 28, 11:35 p.m.
Downtown Fairview
D arak tasted the evil that hung in the air and ached to smash it.
Pluto’s balls, some idiot went and got himself a spell book.
Wasn’t that just dandy?
Who the hell in this backwater has that kind of power? For a pinprick on the map, Fairview was just full of surprises. Vampires standing for public office. Entire prison dimensions. And his personal favorite—invisible evil that set stuff on fire.
Come for the election, stay for the magic of mass destruction .
Darak heaved himself to his feet, stiff from crouching on the peak of the cathedral roof like an oversized gargoyle. He dusted away the snow that had collected on his sleeves and scanned the horizon while he took a slug from his flask.
The dark leathers he wore kept out the wind, but the cold seeped through seams and zippers. One of the old Undead, he could ignore it. What bothered him more was the smoke—not the comfortable scent of a hearth fire, but the reek of a burning building. The acrid stink had drawn him to the highest point he could find, and now he could see the source—a glowing maw of flame to the southwest, unnaturally fierce and bright.
Who or what had caused it? Only one way to find out. Go to the source.
Darak balanced on the roof’s ridgeline, walking toe to heel along its length. Pride made him careful. Vampires could fly, but at close to seven feet and three-fifty, Darak was not exactly aerodynamic. Control was important, unless he wanted to drop like an anvil.
When he reached the roofline, he jumped, a streak of shadow against the black sky. The air rushed to meet him, snow stinging his cheeks. He landed lightly enough, boots skating on the
The detective turned away from the window, then stiffened. He was looking at a desk with a laptop pushed into the corner of the living room. Lore recognized the detritus of a thinker’s profession: highlighters, sticky notes, bits of torn paper used as page markers, and more books than any one person could reasonably read. A teacher, perhaps? A stack of papers sat on one corner of the desk. The title page of the top one said Paradise Lost .
Lore wondered how anyone could sit still long enough to read that many books.
“What did the missing cousin do for a living?” Baines addressed no one in particular, raising his voice to be heard by all.
The answer came from the young cop who’d pointed out the blood on the wall. “Rostova’s a sessional tutor at the university. She’s got a master’s in education and a bachelor’s in Western literature.”
Baines gave a low whistle. “So she knows Latin?”
“I guess, maybe,” the young cop replied.
Lore understood why Baines had asked. There was a Latin dictionary sitting on the desk. The detective shifted some of the other books stacked on the desk. “Beginning Latin Translation. Virgil’s Aeneid . Pride and Prejudice. Anna Karenina . A DVD of Hugh Grant’s greatest hits . Good to have balance.”
A ripple of puzzlement passed over Lore. He could usually sniff people out. But with her endless shopping bags, glittery cell phone, and ridiculous heels, Lore would never have guessed Talia was a teacher. She didn’t put out the smart girl vibe. But then she didn’t put out the knife-fighter vibe, either.
She was deep in hiding, and better at it than anyone had guessed.
Maybe someone had found her out, and gone after her. If so, why?
Or maybe Lore was entirely wrong, and he had a murdering fiend chained to his bed.
He looked out at the snow, watched it gusting down the cold, dry street like handfuls of sugar. It was starting to stick to the grass.
Baines came to stand beside him. “If this keeps up, the city’s going to be shut down by morning.”
“That will make it hard for our killer to run.”
Baines snorted. “You’d be surprised how well they usually hide in plain view.”
Chapter 8
Tuesday, December 28, 11:35 p.m.
Downtown Fairview
D arak tasted the evil that hung in the air and ached to smash it.
Pluto’s balls, some idiot went and got himself a spell book.
Wasn’t that just dandy?
Who the hell in this backwater has that kind of power? For a pinprick on the map, Fairview was just full of surprises. Vampires standing for public office. Entire prison dimensions. And his personal favorite—invisible evil that set stuff on fire.
Come for the election, stay for the magic of mass destruction .
Darak heaved himself to his feet, stiff from crouching on the peak of the cathedral roof like an oversized gargoyle. He dusted away the snow that had collected on his sleeves and scanned the horizon while he took a slug from his flask.
The dark leathers he wore kept out the wind, but the cold seeped through seams and zippers. One of the old Undead, he could ignore it. What bothered him more was the smoke—not the comfortable scent of a hearth fire, but the reek of a burning building. The acrid stink had drawn him to the highest point he could find, and now he could see the source—a glowing maw of flame to the southwest, unnaturally fierce and bright.
Who or what had caused it? Only one way to find out. Go to the source.
Darak balanced on the roof’s ridgeline, walking toe to heel along its length. Pride made him careful. Vampires could fly, but at close to seven feet and three-fifty, Darak was not exactly aerodynamic. Control was important, unless he wanted to drop like an anvil.
When he reached the roofline, he jumped, a streak of shadow against the black sky. The air rushed to meet him, snow stinging his cheeks. He landed lightly enough, boots skating on the
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