Read Online Hoarfrost (Whyborne & Griffin Book 6) by Jordan L. Hawk - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Jordan L. Hawk
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the skin of
my cheeks.
Still,
turning around and immediately rushing back into the saloon would attract
attention and make me look a fool in front of Jack. I didn’t want to embarrass
either Griffin or myself, so I huddled as deeply as possible into my parka and
started off at a brisk walk. I’d go a short distance, then return to the hotel.
Perhaps the relief at being warm again would overcome the awfulness of my
surroundings, and I’d drift happily off to sleep without caring if my bedmate
called me “Mabel.”
I found
myself grateful for the fur lining my parka and for the sealskin boots. Few
lights showed—I hadn’t taken into account such a place wouldn’t have any
street lamps—and only the stars and fat, full moon illuminated the frozen
mud of the roadway.
Not to
suggest the town slept peacefully—far from it. Dogs howled in their
multitudes, a maddening chorus of barks and yips. The gambling halls and
brothels did an excellent business despite the hour. The sound of a badly tuned
piano drifted out from one as I ventured past. Burly men in mackinaws went from
one tent to the next, swearing and shouting.
Hadn’t I
read something earlier in the year about Congress providing funds to the
District of Alaska to curb lawlessness? Or was I misremembering things? I
certainly hoped a cry for help would bring a policeman of some sort, and yet I began
to doubt it.
I really
should go back to the hotel. My bed partners might not be pleasant, but at
least they weren’t dangerous.
Decided,
I turned around and found myself face-to-face with a man.
I couldn’t
make out his features—his hood was drawn far forward, throwing them in
deep shadow, and he wore a scarf wrapped around the lower part of his face. He
stood rather closer to me than I would have liked. How had I missed the sound
of his footsteps behind me?
“Excuse
me,” I said automatically.
“You
wish to break open the mountains and release the great worm,” he growled in a
low, threatening voice.
The
devil. Was the man drunk? I stepped back hastily and held up my hands. “I
assure you, I have no intention of breaking anything,” I said.
Apparently
he didn’t believe me, because he raised his arm. A long dagger flashed in the
moonlight.
I let
out a startled shout and scrambled back from him. My foot caught in a rut, and
I fell, tailbone impacting painfully with mud frozen into the consistency of
concrete. He lunged at me, blade swinging down, and I shouted the secret name
of fire.
Fortunately,
I rolled to the side even as I did so, because the spell did not a damned bit
of good. The blade flashed red with heat, and the smell of scorched leather
filled the air, but his heavy mitten prevented a burn as surely as it held back
frostbite.
Blast.
I made
it to my feet and ran. Boots pounded after me, and I stretched my long legs to
their fullest. My assailant was quite a bit shorter, but didn’t seem to have
any trouble keeping up with me. The cold air burned my lungs and stripped
moisture from my throat.
My steps
turned instinctively in the direction of the sea. The waves pounded against the
shore, the occasional gleam of white marking where a small floe of ice had been
tossed onto the strand. If I could only make it…
He
tackled me from behind, and I fell heavily. His body landed atop me, and I
snapped my head back hard. My skull impacted with his jaw, and his teeth cracked
loudly together. He fell heavily to the side, and I gathered my limbs beneath
me.
There. A
net, hanging from the nearby dock.
I tore
off my mittens so I could grasp the thick cords. Even as I hauled myself up,
the net began to shake under another’s weight.
Still. I
was close enough.
The
maelstrom of Widdershins might not turn beneath me, but I had the blood of the
sea in my veins. There came an angry roar, the cold water ripping across the
sand. The man below me let out a startled cry as the tide suddenly rushed in,
lapping about his waist.
I didn’t
wait to see if he
my cheeks.
Still,
turning around and immediately rushing back into the saloon would attract
attention and make me look a fool in front of Jack. I didn’t want to embarrass
either Griffin or myself, so I huddled as deeply as possible into my parka and
started off at a brisk walk. I’d go a short distance, then return to the hotel.
Perhaps the relief at being warm again would overcome the awfulness of my
surroundings, and I’d drift happily off to sleep without caring if my bedmate
called me “Mabel.”
I found
myself grateful for the fur lining my parka and for the sealskin boots. Few
lights showed—I hadn’t taken into account such a place wouldn’t have any
street lamps—and only the stars and fat, full moon illuminated the frozen
mud of the roadway.
Not to
suggest the town slept peacefully—far from it. Dogs howled in their
multitudes, a maddening chorus of barks and yips. The gambling halls and
brothels did an excellent business despite the hour. The sound of a badly tuned
piano drifted out from one as I ventured past. Burly men in mackinaws went from
one tent to the next, swearing and shouting.
Hadn’t I
read something earlier in the year about Congress providing funds to the
District of Alaska to curb lawlessness? Or was I misremembering things? I
certainly hoped a cry for help would bring a policeman of some sort, and yet I began
to doubt it.
I really
should go back to the hotel. My bed partners might not be pleasant, but at
least they weren’t dangerous.
Decided,
I turned around and found myself face-to-face with a man.
I couldn’t
make out his features—his hood was drawn far forward, throwing them in
deep shadow, and he wore a scarf wrapped around the lower part of his face. He
stood rather closer to me than I would have liked. How had I missed the sound
of his footsteps behind me?
“Excuse
me,” I said automatically.
“You
wish to break open the mountains and release the great worm,” he growled in a
low, threatening voice.
The
devil. Was the man drunk? I stepped back hastily and held up my hands. “I
assure you, I have no intention of breaking anything,” I said.
Apparently
he didn’t believe me, because he raised his arm. A long dagger flashed in the
moonlight.
I let
out a startled shout and scrambled back from him. My foot caught in a rut, and
I fell, tailbone impacting painfully with mud frozen into the consistency of
concrete. He lunged at me, blade swinging down, and I shouted the secret name
of fire.
Fortunately,
I rolled to the side even as I did so, because the spell did not a damned bit
of good. The blade flashed red with heat, and the smell of scorched leather
filled the air, but his heavy mitten prevented a burn as surely as it held back
frostbite.
Blast.
I made
it to my feet and ran. Boots pounded after me, and I stretched my long legs to
their fullest. My assailant was quite a bit shorter, but didn’t seem to have
any trouble keeping up with me. The cold air burned my lungs and stripped
moisture from my throat.
My steps
turned instinctively in the direction of the sea. The waves pounded against the
shore, the occasional gleam of white marking where a small floe of ice had been
tossed onto the strand. If I could only make it…
He
tackled me from behind, and I fell heavily. His body landed atop me, and I
snapped my head back hard. My skull impacted with his jaw, and his teeth cracked
loudly together. He fell heavily to the side, and I gathered my limbs beneath
me.
There. A
net, hanging from the nearby dock.
I tore
off my mittens so I could grasp the thick cords. Even as I hauled myself up,
the net began to shake under another’s weight.
Still. I
was close enough.
The
maelstrom of Widdershins might not turn beneath me, but I had the blood of the
sea in my veins. There came an angry roar, the cold water ripping across the
sand. The man below me let out a startled cry as the tide suddenly rushed in,
lapping about his waist.
I didn’t
wait to see if he
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